


Burning Star

by Jomel10



Category: Bandom, Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), My Chemical Romance
Genre: Anal Sex, Crossover, Hand Jobs, Headaches & Migraines, Kidnapping, M/M, Male Slash, Mind Control, Oral Sex, Rape, Rape Recovery, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-13
Updated: 2012-09-26
Packaged: 2017-11-14 03:58:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 26
Words: 186,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/511071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jomel10/pseuds/Jomel10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Killjoys are in trouble. Korse has caught up with them, and there is no where left to run.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

Chapter One

~x~

It was a battle zone.

And it was getting hard to think straight, there was so much noise, so much chaos going on all around them. And for Party Poison, Kobra Kid and the frightened child in between them, this had started out as just another normal, exciting, dangerous day.

It had been Party's idea to go into the town, to leave the safety of the desert for one day, drive into a no-go Zone and find somewhere populated. They had had little choice, as they had been miles away from the nearest base, and they had badly needed gas.

“ _Five minutes,_ ” he had told them. “ _We'll be five minutes. Tops. Get in there, grab whatever we need, and then we’ll be back out on the road. No time at all. It’ll be fine. No one will even notice us._ ”

How was he to know that Dracs rested in that particular town? How was he to know that most of the towners were working for Better Life, and thus were not to be in the slightest bit trusted?

How was he supposed to fucking know that Korse was so close by? 

_Because Party was the leader, that was why. He had led them there. This was all his fault._

While Jet and Ghoul had moved off to find somewhere selling gas, Party, Kobra and Grace had gone further into the small town, hoping to trade some supplies, and maybe even find some assistance. That was how it had gone down so many times before for them, like in the stories from so long ago. They went into town; kept their heads down; made new friends, perhaps even found new supporters for their cause. 

Not this time. Not this town.

Party had been put on edge immediately due to the large amount of attention they had attracted. He had gripped the girl's hand hard, and had told Kobra not to stick around, to just stock up on food and whatever the hell else they needed, and then to get the fuck out before something terrible happened. 

But it was already too late. _No._ It had been too late from the moment that they had stepped into that damned place.

The Draculoids had come out of nowhere, as they usually tended to do during an ambush. There were so many of them, coming from every direction - shouts, screams and gunshots everywhere. Kobra and Poison had fought their way out of the store, protecting their young friend desperately, and managing to take down a few Dracs along the way, but they had soon realised that there were just too many of them. They were out-numbered and out-gunned and, in that moment, unable to warn the others or request help. They had only one option left open to them, and Party had screamed just one instruction:

“ _Run!_ ”

And they had run, as quickly as they could, the three of them, darting between explosions and stray ray beams. The Dracs were right behind them, yelling instructions for them to stop or die, as if they'd take notice of some lowly Drac. Party had paused, turned, and blasted the leading Drac in the face. Good. He wouldn’t open his fucking mouth again. A burning beam narrowly skimmed Party's arm and he swore loudly. A crazy thought had hit him then, the thought of just how much it would hurt to be struck fully in the chest by one of those blasts. 

He planned to never find out.

He looked over at Kid. The younger man was staring straight ahead, breathing hard, but matching Party stride for stride. Together, they pulled their young friend along between them, her curly hair blowing, unruly, in the wind. She was tired, and scared. But she kept running. When he had told her just to run and not look back, she had listened. 

And now, all they could do was run. He had no clever back up plan, no way out of this. 

“We've got to get out of the open!” Kobra suddenly called across to Party.

Poison gave him a withering look.

_Point out the fucking obvious, Kid._

Instead of responding, Party looked back over his shoulder. They were still gaining. They had to think of something; otherwise it would only be a matter of time before they were cut down. On this occasion, they really couldn't go on running forever.

That's when he saw it: the wall, somewhere they could get some cover, just for a moment. Perfect.

Party sprang forward, grabbing Grace and Kobra by their arms, and pulled them to their right, in the direction of the wall. He flung them behind it and the three of them knelt there together, trying to catch their breaths.

Party stared at the Grace, his breathing sore and painful. He could see she would have trouble moving another step. She was exhausted. Grace stared up at him with large, expressive eyes and he knew - she needed a rest.

“Sweetheart,” he told her, handing her his ray gun. “You keep an eye out for us, yeah?”

She nodded, her eyes growing ever larger in awe as she regarded him as if he was some kind of fucking hero.

He frowned. He was no hero. 

“Good girl,” he told her, allowing her a small smile. He glanced back towards the enemy, but they seemed to have stilled also.

He turned his attention to Kobra.

“Where are the others?” He hissed.

“I tried to call Ghoul from the store when that first Drac appeared, but the communicator was out,” Kobra replied, and he pulled out the device again, looking at it, willing it to light up. It was no use as the thing was dead. He smacked it in his frustration. “I don't know what to do, Party. We have no way of even knowing whether the other guys are still alive. We don't even fucking know if Jet found some fucking gas. If he didn’t, well, we're fucking stuck in this shit hole then, aren't we?”

Despite their situation, Party actually smirked at that. _Typical Kid._ At that moment, the car was the least of their worries.

“It'll be okay, Kobra,” Party tried to reassure him. By the look the Kid gave him, he hadn't sounded very convincing. Party sighed. “Look, you're right, we gotta get out of the open, we're sitting ducks like this.” He glanced over the wall again. “They must be awaiting orders, like the good little drones they are. Can't use their own fucking brains, because they don't have them...” He saw Kobra raise an eyebrow and he understood. Now was not the time for a speech. “We need time to regroup,” he offered; “And we need to figure out a way to get out of this, and contact Ghoul, Jet and the Doc. If we can.”

“The Doc isn't broadcasting here. Too built up. We know that.”

Now, Party felt anger sweeping through him. “I fucking know that, Kid, but if we don't find a way to fucking get a hold of him, and get ourselves some reinforcements, we are going to fucking die out here!” 

The girl let out a low sob. Party glanced down at her, instantly regretted his stupid words, and placed a protective arm around her shoulder. He then, calmer now, looked back towards the Kid.

“We need some place to hide, just for a short stay.” He said, more quietly. “We need to catch our breaths, and Grace needs to get the fuck off of her feet.”

Kobra frowned. They needed a plan. He needed to see what their options were. He edged his way carefully along the wall, and leaned out. A shot narrowly missed him. He yelped and jumped back.

“Jesus, M-” Party began, grabbing for Kobra but then, he caught himself.

Kobra blinked.

Party swallowed. He had nearly said a name. A name he hadn't mentioned for a long time.

_Where had that come from? He knew better than that._

“Fucking hell, Kid,” Party tried again, quietly. “Be careful, will you?”

Kobra nodded, watching Party closely for a moment. He then took a deep breath, and looked out again. This time, he was able to see that, only a few metres away, there was a small building. Perhaps it had once been another store? Whatever it was, it looked abandoned now. He looked back towards the smoke and fire, and saw once again that the Dracs were moving forward. They'd obviously received their orders, which could mean only one thing: Exterminator Korse was on his way. And now, they really had run out of time.

Kobra pulled himself back behind the wall, and then turned back to Party and Grace, who were sitting down on the ground beside him.

“You okay?” Party enquired urgently.

“'Course,” came the blunt reply.

“So, anything?” The other man continued, his patience clearly non-existent. Kobra couldn't blame him. Time was not on their side.

“There's a building, directly ahead of us. Only a few metres away. We can make a break for it. If we barricade the door or something, we could give ourselves a shot.”

Party was dubious. “Yeah? A shot at what?”

Kobra pursed his lips together. “A shot at surviving here a little bit longer than if we stay stuck behind this fucking wall. They're moving slowly, Party, and that means they are not coming at us all guns blazing any more. Either they are terrified of you, me and Grace, or they want to take us, or her, alive. I think we can guess which is more likely. Either way, I don't wanna find out.” He lowered his voice, making his way back to the edge of the wall that was still serving as their only protection. “Anyway, you know what this will mean: Korse knows we're here. He won't pass this opportunity up. He'll be coming for us.”

A defiant look spread across Party's features.

“Oh Yeah? Let him.”

Kobra glared at that. “It's not a fucking joke, Party. It's not a game. He'll kill us. All of us.”

“I know that.”

“Start taking this seriously then, could you?”

Party's face darkened. “You think I'm not?”

Kobra rolled his eyes. “Sometimes, I just don't know with you. I really don't.”

“This isn't exactly my idea of fun, Kid.”

“Stop _fucking_ calling me Kid, you know I hate that -”

“Stop fucking _acting_ like one, then!”

“Guys.” A weary little voice spoke up, silencing them both. “We need to move.”

They were both quietened, and shamed, by her delicate tones. Kobra and Party, glanced away from each other, embarrassed by their silly and completely unnecessary fight, and both looked out together over their wall. They saw that the Dracs were indeed moving forward again, in a formation, their guns at the ready... But they were not attempting to open fire.

Kobra tapped Party on the arm gently. “So, that was my plan. You got any better ideas?”

Party jerked his head. “No.”

Kobra took hold of the Grace's arm, hurling her up. “Right, so, the store it is then?”

Party gave him a grim smile. “Store sounds good to me.” 

His gun at the ready, Party looked toward the others and mouthed. “After three, move.”

He counted with his fingers, and then yelled, as loud as he could; “ _Go now! GO!_ ”

He called for Grace to move and she did so, scampering ahead of them. They covered her, firing at the army of Dracs behind them, who were now charging forward. A Drac tried to take aim at the child and Party, swearing, opened fire and the bastard was put down. The two Killjoys ran, following right behind Grace. They had to keep her safe, get her back to the Doctor in one piece. That's all they could concentrate on. She had trusted them, Party in particular, and he would not let her down. He had given her hope when she had had none, given her something to live for. He owed it to her now to see her okay. That was all there was to do. Keep running and never look back. Keep fighting. What else was there for them? Kobra and Party turned and tore along behind Grace, side-by-side, shoulder-to-shoulder, as they raced towards the small buildings’ entrance. Finally, they arrived. Party pulled at the door handle and swore loudly. It was locked. He could hear the Dracs ever gaining on them. He didn't hesitate. He kicked the door in and threw it open. 

The three of them rushed in, Grace leading the way. Party slammed the now broken door behind them. He looked around hurriedly, and saw a heavy table over by the far wall.

He gestured to Kobra.

“Help me.”

Together, they pushed the table up against the door, creating a temporary barricade.

“It'll do for now,” Party noted. 

“That won't hold.” Kobra snapped.

Party clearly wanted to hit him. “ _I know._ ”

Kobra quickly scanned the room. They had blocked the only exit. No way out. “You just _had_ to kick the door down.”

Party glowered at him. “Didn't see you holding a fucking key.”

They glared at eachother; both realising their situation was hopeless.

Kobra gestured with his arms. “So, what do we do now?”

Party said nothing.

_What could he say? He had no answers._

They all jumped when they heard a banging coming from the doorway. The Dracs outside were trying to force their way in. 

Party went straight back into action mode. “Okay, we have exactly as much time that it takes for those fucking losers outside to realise that they can use their ray guns to blast down the door, and blow it, and us, away.” He considered. “Or we have until Korse arrives, basically. We gotta think now, and fast.”

They looked at each other, breathing hard, both men trying desperately to think of a way to survive this. Party looked away first, glancing toward Grace. She stared back, open mouthed. Party nodded to her, hoping he could keep her calm. She had been so amazing so far, the calmest of all three of them. As he gazed at her, his eyes were drawn to a small beam of light just above her head, from the wall. He stared stupidly at it for a moment, and then his eyes widened. Sunlight - he could see sunlight.

Which meant...

He rushed forward, towards where an old style cabinet had been placed, he now assumed for protection. He shoved at it, using all his strength to push the heavy item of furniture to one side, revealing a window. A small window, but a way out nonetheless.

He looked quickly towards Kobra, his eyes sparkling.

“Fucking hell,” Kobra said, not sure what else to say. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. “Thank fuck for that.”

Party was already moving into action. 

He stood by the window. “Here. You can both get through this. It's a big enough space.”

Kobra felt the hope that had suddenly sparked up deep inside of him begin to die just as quickly as it had appeared. Realisation dawned on him. He shook his head. “It's no good. They'll see us, even we can't run _that_ fast.” He started violently when there was another loud crash from the doorway. “We'll be easy targets, running blindly.” He bit his lip. “And I don't think Dracs would have any problem with shooting us in the back, Party.”

“They won't get the chance. You'll be well out of range before they get the chance to fire a shot.” Party's face was set, and his eyes were cold.

He would take no arguments.

Kobra was flustered. “We’ll have a matter of seconds. How far can we get in a few seconds?”

Party glanced away from Kobra.

“You're not getting it.”

Kobra frowned.

“Getting what?”

“You and Grace need to go, _now_.”

Kobra actually snorted. “Oh yeah, okay. And what about you? You’ll be running behind us, we won’t be able to offer you any cover. They'll cut you down, then come after us...”

“I won’t be running.”

“What?”

“Not if I hold them off from in here.”

Kobra blinked. 

_What had he just said? What the fuck was this?_

Out loud, Kobra said, “Sorry?”

Grace cleared her throat. "But you can't fight them all by yourself, Party" she said, matter-of-factly.

"Don't worry, Gracie." Kobra snapped at once. "We must have heard him wrong. He wouldn't be that stupid."

Party pursed his lips together and tightened his hold on his gun. “You heard me right.”

“I don't think I fucking did.”

Party grimaced. "Don't fight me now, Kobra. Not on this." Suddenly, he struck out with his gun, missing Kobra by a hairs length, and smashing the window just behind where the younger man was standing. 

The sounds from outside stopped abruptly.

That's when they heard his voice.

“ _They are trying to find another route out of there!_ ”

Korse. 

“ _Move back, all of you. Get in line and when I give the word, fire._ ” 

They exchanged resigned looks.

“Times up,” Party muttered. “Go.”

“No – _fucking_ – way.”

“You have to. For her sake.”

“I said no.”

Party shoved him but Kobra held his ground.

The older man let out an exasperated sigh. “We have only seconds left. Please, Kobra. Take Grace and get the Hell out of here!”

Kobra crossed his arms, but his expression gave him away. He knew there was no other choice. But it was killing him to have to do this. So, like everything, he would fight it. “I'm _not_ fucking leaving you here alone. Korse is out there! He'll kill you.”

The other man shrugged. “Maybe. But I can try to hold him and his scum army off while you and Grace get away.

Kobra was agonising. How could he do this? How could Party expect him to make this decision?

“Don't make me go without you,” he whispered. He knew he sounded weak, like a loser, but he couldn't help it.

_Stay together. That had been their mom's last words to them as she had told them to run and keep running. Just always stay together._

They heard Korse's hated voice again.

“ _Blasters on full power. Now, together! Fire on my order._ ” 

Party suddenly moved, picking Grace up and holding her close to him, while keeping his eye on the devastated Kobra.

Grace closed her eyes and laid her head against Party's chest. "You'll follow us," she said softly. "Right?"

He hugged her and kissed her cheek. Then, he put Grace back down on the ground and stepped closer to Kobra. “Last chance. You have to go now, or it will be all be for fucking nothing anyway. Please. Go.”

Kobra was fighting to keep control. He hurled up Grace, who was now in tears, very aware herself of exactly what was unfolding for them all, and Kobra prepared to pass her through the gap first. He had no other option. _They_ had no other option. And he knew it.

He could no longer stop himself. Party's rule to always use their nicknames, never their real names, didn't matter any more.

“Gerard...”

Party froze. He had to catch himself. He gaped at Kobra. He leaned forward then, smiled a tearful, pained smile and grasped his younger brother's shoulder tightly.

“It's the only way, Mikey.”

Kobra knew he was right.

Swallowing hard, he turned away from his brother, his face stern and determined, and he helped the girl through the now broken window, careful not to cut her on the shards of glass. She whimpered softly and then fell out of his grasp, landing on the sand outside with a grunt. And then, Grace waited, glancing with concern over her shoulder.

Noting that Grace was okay, Kobra then turned one final time to his brother.

“Thanks.” He said, simply.

Party shook his head. “Don't mention it.”

“ _AIM_!” Came the shout from outside.

Kobra found himself grinning, despite the desire he had not to go through with this. He wanted to close his eyes, go far away and cling to his big brother, never having to let him go... But that was a fairytale. 

He took a deep breath. “I'll see you, man.”

Party nodded, and then watched as his brother climbed out of the window. The older winced as he saw the other cut himself quite badly on the glass, and then jump the rest of the way down. Kobra landed carefully, grabbed Grace's hand and ran, dragging the unhappy girl along with him. He didn't look back.

_“FIRE!”_

Party gazed at them, following their progress, his heart growing ever heavier. He felt empty. Suddenly, the sound of a huge explosion ripped through the small room, and Party didn't have to see to know that his barricade had been destroyed, along with much of the opposite wall. He spun round, gun ready, and his hand as steady as ever. A Drac appeared through the hazy smoke and Party yelled in outrage, hoping to panic the drone. It worked. The drone had not expected the Killjoy to still be in the room and lowered his gun in surprise. Party got an easy shot off and the Drac fell. Drone after drone came into his range and he blasted away, watching with satisfaction as he cut down enemy after enemy. Thanks to the blast, the Dracs that had been nearest the door, and therefore the first in range, were disorientated. Before they were even aware of what was happening, they were dead. 

Party couldn't afford himself a glance to see how Kobra and Grace were faring. He just prayed he could give them long enough.

He kept up a good fight but knew he was tiring fast, plus, to his misery, even more Dracs were entering the small room, one after another, they just kept on coming. There were just too many for him to kill, until, finally, he was surrounded, his back to Kobra and Grace's escape route.. He pointed his ray gun at each Drac in turn, deciding which one would have the honour of being his last victim, before they were given the order to fire and it would all be over for Party Poison.

“What's the matter, boys?” He drawled, his lip twitching. “You scared?”

One rushed forward and struck Party hard across the face, knocking him back. He swore as his gun was then wrenched out of his grasp. He tried to resist, but was pinned against the wall. He couldn't move a muscle. All he could do was glare daggers at his aggressors.

“Ten against one?” He snarled. “You BLI bastards can't play fair, can you?”

“Well, well. Party Poison, I assume?”

Party tried to twist his head in the direction of the voice. He couldn't help but shiver from the feeling of dread that had suddenly seized him as he watched Korse stride confidently into the room, and move easily towards him.

Party tried his best not to tremble as the Exterminator held his gun up against the side of the captured Killjoy's head, tilted his own head slightly, and smiled nastily.

“It's an honour to meet you finally, Gerard Way.”

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Kobra didn't pause, he didn't even look back. He kept going, holding tightly on to Grace's hand, pulling her along with him. The blasts from the store had died down a few moments ago, but Kobra hadn't given that a second thought.

_Why would he want to think about it?_

He wasn't stupid. He knew what it meant anyway: His brother was dead.

Kobra clenched his fists, squeezing Grace's hand. He knew what the best way was to remember the brother he loved, how he should honor him. He would follow Gerard's final wishes as best he could. He would protect Grace with his very life, get her to Doctor Death, and see that she got to live a normal, healthy life. Gerard never did tell him what was so special about the child, or why he was so desperate to go out into the Zones and search for her. Kobra had decided against asking him.

Not that it mattered now. Gerard was gone, and he had entrusted Grace's safety to his younger brother. Kobra would not let him down.

He felt Grace pulling on his hand, could sense how tired she was, and he gritted his teeth.

"Gracie, we gotta keep going. We're not out of this yet."

"My feet hurt, Kobra," she said, quietly. "I need to stop, just for a quick break."

"If we stop, they'll get us. We have to keep on running."

She wiped at her eyes, shaking her head in confusion.

"What about Party? Aren't we gonna go back for him?"

Kobra tightened his hold on his gun. Shit. What was he supposed to say now? He stopped and looked back, relieved to see that there was not a Drac in sight. Suddenly, anger swept over him. No, he wasn't thankful. He wanted them to come. He wanted to blast each and every one of the fuckers into hell, and laugh as he did so.

He wanted to make them pay.

Kobra could feel the pain and despair building inside of him. He had to control it, force it back down. He closed his eyes, moaning softly.

What good was this? Gerard would not want him to die in some kind of fucking revenge mission. He had asked him to live. He wanted all of them to live. That's what the Killjoys were all about.

" _It's the only way, Mikey._ "

Kobra blinked back tears. He had to be strong. He had to hold it together, for both their sakes. He knelt down beside Grace, and took hold of her arms, gripping her tightly.

"Party's got his own fight right now, baby. He'll deal with that, and meet up with us later. You heard what he said, Grace. We've got to get away from here, or those bad guys will find us again."

"Dracs, Kobra," she told him, rolling her eyes. "I'm not stupid."

"No, you're not." He couldn't help but smile. He ruffled her hair. "You're smarter than me, sweetheart."

She looked back in the direction of the store, still unsure. "He'll find us? You're sure?"

"I'm sure. You know Party. Nothing can stop him. Least of all a bunch of stupid Dracs!"

If only he could actually believe that were true, and they weren't just words to reassure Grace. But he knew the impossible odds that Gerard had been about to face. Even if he hadn't been out-gunned and killed by the Dracs on sight, there was no way Korse would have let him live. Korse wanted them all dead, but he seemed fixated on Party Poison the most.

' _Oh shit. What the fuck have I done? If Gerard is still alive, then what is Korse doing to him right now? He needs me. Why am I running away?_ '

Kobra covered his face with his hands, and leaned back, trying to prevent the tears from falling. Giving himself a shake, he looked back at his young friend. She was watching him, pain etched on her face.

And that was when he realized: this wasn't about him. It wasn't even about Gerard, not at that moment anyway.

He had promised to look after her. It was time he delivered on that vow.

_Thinking about Gerard like this, it wasn't helping. It would be time to grieve later. When Grace was safe, then he could go hunting for Dracs, and then he'd be able to think about his brother._

Kobra's heart hurt. He had to hide that fact from her. Time to be strong. He took a deep breath before standing up again, and offered Grace his hand.

"Trust me, Gracie. We'll see Party again. But now, we gotta keep going. You with me?"

She nodded. He hugged her tightly, stroking her hair.

And then, he heard them - the sound of shot blasts and shouts in the distance.

Fuck.

The Dracs had found them. He saw the lights from their guns first, and then they were coming out of the smoke. Dozens of them, running towards Kobra and Grace in a line.

"Time's up," Kobra announced, pulling Grace forward. "We gotta go. Run, Gracie. Don't look back, just run."

With a gasp, Grace ran along beside him. Kobra dragged her, trying to figure out what he was going to do, what Gerard would do.

They couldn't run forever. Grace was already dead on her feet and he was on his way to joining her. It looked hopeless.

He heard her moan beside him, felt her slip over and land on her knees.

"Kobra," she whimpered. "I can't..."

"You have to," he told her, desperate.

"Hurts..."

Kobra lifted her up into his arms, grimacing from the glass cuts he had suffered when he had made his escape, and set off again. It suddenly dawned on him that he was bleeding through his shirt. He dismissed it. No time to worry about that now. He was panting hard, his breathing hurt him, and his throat was sore. And they were gaining on him. He knew he couldn't go much further, not like this, not carrying her too.

And with every step, they were gaining ground on him. They were going to catch them and take Grace, and there was not a fucking thing he could do to stop them.

' _I'm sorry, Gerard..._ '

Suddenly, a high-pitched ringing sound filled the air. Kobra couldn't believe his ears: his communicator was buzzing; someone was trying to contact them. Supporting Grace with just the one arm now, Kobra felt inside his jacket, pulled out the small device and flipped a switch.

For one crazy split second, he actually wondered if he was about to hear his brother's voice on the other end.

He cursed himself inwardly.

'You know that's not possible. Get a fucking grip, Mikey. 

"Hello?"

" _Kobra, is that you?_ " 

"Ghoul!" A thrill coursed through him. "Thank fuck you're okay. Where are you?"

" _Just ahead of you._ " 

"What?"

" _As soon as I got a signal, I started scanning for your communicator and I found you. Jet and I are driving straight to you guys. Just keep running._ "

Kobra's was sprinting, but the Dracs chasing him were still gaining. How the hell did they keep going? He already knew the answer to that of course. The drugs BLI forced into their drones systems every day kept them in perfect condition. And perfectly compliant too, obviously.

But right now, they had the advantage.

"We can't go much further!" Kobra shouted into his communicator. "Where the fuck are you, Ghoul?"

" _Directly ahead of you, only a few moments away. You'll see us any second now. Almost there!_ "

His chest was hurting. He stole a look over his shoulder. A few yards more and they would be on top of them.

"Ghoul, I don't see you..."

All he heard was static.

' _What now?_ '

"Frankie! Can you hear me?" Kobra shouted.

Nothing.

' _It was hopeless._

"Kobra!" Grace suddenly yelled, pointing straight ahead. "LOOK!"

And then, blessedly, he saw it. Their car was speeding straight towards them, and Kobra could have cheered with relief. The car screamed to a halt next to Kobra and Ghoul threw open his door and scrambled out. He took Grace from Kobra and bundled her into the car.

As soon as Grace was safe, Ghoul turned his attention back to Kobra.

"What happened?" He demanded. "Where's Party? Why isn't he with you?"

Kobra could only gaze back at him, breathing hard. What could he say? What were the right words?

"What are you two doing?" Jet threw at them, sticking his head out of the open window. "Get the fuck out of there!"

They both heard shouting from behind them. The Dracs were almost in range, and were aiming their weapons directly at Ghoul and Kobra.

"Get in!" Ghoul snapped to Kobra, and he came to his senses. He raced round to the back of the car, and pulled open the other door, and threw himself in. He saw Ghoul had slipped into the seat beside Jet and was holding onto the dashboard in preparation. Kobra met Jet's gaze for a second, and then Jet was spinning the car around expertly, and the engine roared its outrage. They saw the Dracs opening fire, and Jet swore under his breath. He finished turning the car around and slammed his foot down hard. Within seconds, they were zooming away, leaving the Dracs, and the town, in their wake.

Finally, Kobra had the chance to catch his breath.

"Thanks." He whispered. He pulled Grace closer to him, wrapped an arm around her and held her close. The girl noticed the discomfort he was in, and pushed aside his jacket, seeing the blood on his shirt for the first time. She frowned, ripped off a section of her own clothing, and pressed it to his wounds. She then smiled at him gently, trying to be comforting.

Kobra could feel the lump in his throat, and he broke eye contact with her, turning to see Jet and Ghoul exchanging worried glances.

"You okay?" Jet asked, quietly.

"Yeah, we're fine. A couple of cuts, that's all." He responded, and turned and gazed out of the window, his eyes drawn to the sun shining in the distance. "What happened to you guys after we split up? We tried to warn you that the town was crawling with Dracs, but the communicators went down."

"We noticed that too," Ghoul replied. "We knew something was up with that fucking place from the off, and had just about finished filling the car up with gas when all those Dracs started appearing from everywhere. We fought our way out and drove clear, and then tried to contact you and Party."

And the mention of Party's name, overwhelming grief and guilt instantly hit Kobra. He banished any thoughts of Gerard, not wanting to picture him or what he could be going through at that moment. If he was still alive of course. Kobra brushed his hair out of his eyes, conveniently wiping the tears threatening to spill at the same time, and then looked back at Ghoul.

"So, how did you get the communicators working again?"

Ghoul noticed the sudden change in conversation. He frowned, but didn't press the issue. He already feared the worse anyway, and he was not desperate to have his fears confirmed.

"Once we were away from the town, the communicators worked. We figured the Dracs were blocking the signal. You must have gotten far enough out of range for us to find you, I guess. The block was the reason we couldn't hear the Doc's broadcasts either. Korse's doing." His eyes narrowed. "Guess the bastard doesn't want these people hearing the truth. God forbid they get the chance to make up their own minds."

"That's what Party said," Grace piped up.

They all turned to look at her. She swallowed, and glanced away.

Ghoul cleared his throat. "Kobra, what happened to you guys?"

Kobra grimaced. He looked down at his hands, not able to look Ghoul in the eye. "We got surprised by the Dracs in the store while we were buying supplies." He blinked. "There were so many of them. Too many. We were surrounded."

Ghoul could feel the dread building inside of him. "The two of you escaped," he stated, and then, more quietly; "Where's Party?"

Kobra couldn't find the words. He chewed on his lip nervously, his eyes locked onto his gun.

"I asked you a question, Kobra." Ghoul continued. His tone was low, dangerously so. "Where is he?"

When Kobra did speak, it was so quietly, Ghoul wasn't certain he'd heard him right.

"He held them off."

"What?"

Still, Kobra couldn't look at him.

"All three of us were trapped. It was hopeless. I was gonna fight, you know? Me and him, a fucking fight to the death with those bastards if that's what it came too, but Party had other ideas. He told me to take Grace and go, said she mattered more than anything else, he made me, I didn't want to." Finally, he glanced up at Ghoul, who had turned deathly pale. Kobra swallowed hard. "He said he'd stay there, keep them back while we got away. I don't know what happened to him."

Jet tightened his hold on the steering wheel. "If I know Party, he'll be fucking Korse up right now, and any Drac who gets in his way." He looked at Kobra in the rear view mirror. "He'll be fighting, Kobra. You know it."

Kobra brought a shaky hand up to his forehead. "If he's not dead already."

"No," Ghoul whispered. His voice broke as he continued. "Korse will need information from him. He won't just kill him."

Kobra felt a pang of hope, but that quickly turned to fear when he realised what the alternative meant.

"He'll question him?"

"I guess so."

Panic coursed through Kobra. "And that means he'll be fucking tortured, doesn't it?"

Ghoul didn't reply.

Kobra sprang forward in his seat, so violently he caused Jet to swerve the car. They all fell to one side, but Kobra was too furious to notice. He had never felt so hopeless. This thought had already crossed his mind; he had dismissed it, not wanting to picture Korse hurting Gerard, and Kobra not being able to do a thing about it.

Now, he had to face it. So he took it out on Ghoul.

"You're talking about my brother being _tortured,_ aren't you, Frank?" He asked, fury evident in his tone.

Frank started in surprise, and then turned to regard the younger man angrily.

"Since when are we using our real names, Kobra? You know the rules."

"Yeah well, Gerard isn't here to enforce his rules, is he?"

"Doesn't mean we're gonna go to fucking pieces, okay?"

"You taking charge then, Frankie?" Kobra taunted. "Big surprise. Didn't take you long did it? Gerard has only been gone five minutes and you've moved on already..."

Ghoul saw red. He made a grab for Kobra. "Don't you fucking tell me what I'm feeling. You have no fucking clue, okay?" He leaned closer. "You wanna blame someone? Look in the mirror!"

The younger Killjoy flinched. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You're the one who fucking left him there, Mikey!"

Kobra stared back, open-mouthed.

"You sonofabitch! I'll fucking kill you!" He hissed, and then he grabbed for the door handle. It was locked. The car always locked automatically when all the doors were shut. Added protection, Gerard had called it. Kobra swore angrily, and Grace gasped, hands over her ears as she tried to block his angry words out.

"Jet," Kobra barked. "Stop the fucking car!"

"No," Jet replied abruptly.

Frank tutted. "Don't be fucking stupid, Kobra!"

Kobra ignored him. "Let me out right now! I'm not staying in here with him another..."

"Guys," Jet said wearily, speaking loudly and clearly. "Both of you need to calm – the – fuck – down. This isn't helping us and it definitely isn't helping Gerard, okay? We gotta stick together on this, got it?"

Kobra took a deep breath. He glanced away from Ghoul, trying to control his temper. He looked over at Grace, and felt regret when he saw her distressed state. He reached out and stroked her hair. She opened her eyes and looked up at him, and when he saw her tears, he felt terrible.

"I'm sorry," he muttered.

She nodded, moving her hands away from her ears.

Kobra turned to Ghoul. "You too, Ghoul. I'm just shit scared, you know?" He looked down. "And you're right about me. I did leave my brother in that room to be tortured. I ran like a fucking coward. This is all my fault."

Ghoul sighed.

"I'm the one who should be saying sorry, Kobra. I didn't mean any of that shit. It wasn't your fault." He spoke kindly, more quietly. "You did the right thing getting out of there, protecting Gracie."

Kobra gave him a small smile. He appreciated Frank's words, but it didn't make him feel any better.

He knew the guilt would never go away.

Jet Star cleared his throat. "What do we do now?"

Ghoul grimaced. "We'll finish what we set out to do. Get Gracie back to base. Party told me the Doctor went on and on at him about how important she was." He glanced at the girl, who was now gazing at him with wide eyes. "Let's finish the job."

Ghoul clenched his fists. "And what about Par-" He paused, then spoke again, more softly; "What about Gerard?"

A dark look fell across Ghoul's face.

"If Korse hurts him, I'll rip out his fucking heart." He stared straight ahead. "We'll see Grace home, and then go back." He stole another glance at Kobra. "We'll get him back, Mikey."

His tone helped Kobra, calmed him. He nodded gratefully.

Jet was thoughtful. "We'll need a plan. Can't just go blasting our way back in there, Ghoul. Korse will be expecting that."

Ghoul nodded. "The Doc will know what to do."

XXX

"It's an honour to meet you finally, Gerard Way."

Party stared unblinking, his eyes locked on Korse's. The other man was smirking, his gun still touching Party's head.

"Where are the others?" Korse whispered, his lips almost grazing Party's neck.

"What others?" Party replied, almost nonchalantly.

"There were more of you Killjoy scum in this room before," Korse continued. "They didn't disappear into thin air, so how did they get out?" He tilted his head again. "I thought I heard a window smash. I assume you delinquents had something to do with that?"

Party shrugged. "Just me." He smiled. "Sorry. I'll pay for the damage."

Korse paused. "Oh really?" He leaned back slightly. "I wonder if you are stupid enough to lie to me?"

Party didn't bother to reply. He just kept staring.

Korse's smile widened. "I guess you are," he mused. Suddenly, he slammed his gun against Party's temple. Party grunted in pained surprise and fell to his knees from the force of the blow. He slumped there, at Korse's feet, trying to clear the throbbing hurt in his head. Korse, meanwhile, kicked out at Party, knocking him to one side, leaving his way clear to the broken window that Party was trying so hard to keep from the other man's view.

"Thought so," Korse muttered as he peered out. "So, this is how Kobra Kid and that brat running with you made their miraculous escape. Did you actually think I wouldn't notice, Poison?" He shook his head, chuckling, his hands clasped behind his back. "They couldn't have gotten far." He glared down at Party once more. "How long ago? When did they run?"

"I don't remember." Party mumbled.

Korse snarled. He hurled Party up by his hair, and shook him painfully. Noticing the burn mark on the other man's arm, Korse then grabbed him by his wounded arm and squeezed. Party moaned, trying to dislodge his enemy's hold on him, but his efforts were useless. "I asked you a question, scum!" Korse hissed in his prisoner's ear. " _Answer me!_ "

Party closed his eyes, trying to block out the pain and Korse's words. He would not give in. After a few moments, Korse released his hold on Party, and the younger man slipped back down to the ground. Korse regarded him for a second, and then shrugged. "No matter. It couldn't have been longer than a matter of minutes." He turned to the nearest Drac. "Get after them. They would have left prints in the sand. Find them, and bring them back here to me. Alive." The majority of the Dracs filed out of the room, and left only three remaining with Party and Korse. The hateful man smiled down at Party. "You don't want to talk to me, Way? That's a shame. Let's find out how much looser your tongue is when it's your younger brother's life in the balance as well as your own, shall we?"

Party gaped at him.

' _How could he know?_ '

He tried to bluff it.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I haven't got a brother anymore. You killed him, with the rest of my family."

Korse feigned surprise, and then dropped down beside the weakened Killjoy. "You'll quickly realise that lying to me is pointless, Way." He leaned closer, whispering in Party's ear. "I know everything about all of you maggots. Gerard and Michael Way, Frank Iero and Raymond Toro. I know how you met Frank and Raymond, I know about the other members of your pathetic little band of rebels that you have gotten killed along the way." Korse gripped Party's chin harshly, forcing him to look at him. "I know you, Gerard Way. And I know every little detail of how you and Doctor Death Defying have been working to destroy everything I've given my whole life and soul to help build." He released Party, and stood up straight again, regarding him with disdain. "I am going to make you pay for every last moment of stress or concern that you and your little friends have caused me."

"I hope there will be much more to come," Party spat. "Even if you kill me, they'll keep coming."

Korse raised an eyebrow. "We'll see."

He looked out of the window again, and his lips twitched as he saw his Dracs examining the tracks, considering the route Kobra and Grace used, desperate to carry out his orders.

"Do your soldiers ever disappoint you, Party Poison?" Korse wondered. "Mine do. They couldn't even figure out for themselves that your brother and the girl escaped through the window. I wish my Dracs had some of your cunning and intelligence." He smiled down at him. "I could do with a slave like you."

Party bristled. "I'll never be a slave," he retorted. "I don't belong to anybody. That's what freedom is all about."

"You consider yourself a free man, pride yourself on your _originality_ ," Korse smirked; "And yet you follow Doctor Death's orders without question?"

"Yeah," Party threw back. "But I choose to do that. He doesn't own me. If I didn't agree with him, I could tell him without fear of being ghosted, killed, or fucking reprogrammed for my trouble. Tell you what _Exterminator_ , maybe you'd have more luck fighting me and my pals if your drones still had the use of their own brains. If they could think for themselves, they'd be more useful, you know?"

Korse considered this. "Thinking is overrated," he replied. "Thinking leads to unrest and chaos. There is no chaos in Battery City."

Poison snorted. "There's no freedom in Battery City either. People need imagination."

"What good has having an imagination done for you, Poison?" Korse's eyes flashed. "Look at the predicument you are in now."

Party shook his head in amusement. "A bit of imagination, and maybe you'd have been able to catch all four of us a long time."

"I found you. It's only a matter of time now until I have the rest." He smiled. "You are their weakness. They won't leave you here to die."

"You can't guess at what they'll do, Korse. That's my point."

Korse regarded him. "You are my prisoner. I outsmarted you."

"You really didn't," Poison threw back. "And besides, it took you long enough to find me, didn't it?"

A chuckle. "And this belief that keeps you fighting, imagining that you can prevail against such overwhelming opposition," He smirked. "You call that free will? I call it stupidity."

"At least I made up my own mind and gave myself the choice," Party fired back. Then, he was thoughtful. "But yeah, that does keep me going. And also the fact that we have something worth fighting for." He rubbed the sweat off of his forehead. "What do your drones have to die for?"

"They live to obey me."

"They live for nothing." Party responded. "Least of all serving you. They are robots." He looked up. "But, with the personality you have, you're no better than a machine yourself. And that's why, in the long run, you're gonna lose." He paused. "Aren't you, Korse?"

Korse seemed to think over his words. And then, with an angry hiss, he began to kick the other man in the ribs repeatedly, only stopping when Party cried out when a rib cracked. He then grabbed the Killjoy by his jacket, and threw him away from the window, into the centre of the room. Party landed awkwardly, grunting in agony as he laid there. He moaned softly, and tried to catch his breath. He couldn't help but flinch as Korse stalked towards him once more.

Korse hurled Party up once again. "You think you can win? You won't. You'll die, just like your pathetic mother and father."

Party tried to pull away. "Don't talk about my parents!" He snarled.

"Why not?" Korse taunted. "They were both weak idiots who thought they could stand against Better Living, to save their children. You are weak too, Party Poison. And you will meet the same end as them, mark my words."

"Fuck you!"

"Language, Gerard!"

Party glowered at him. "That's not my name any more."

"Yes, it is," Korse argued. "'Gerard Way' is the name you were born with. The name you registered to the company with. You took our drugs once. You were a part of what you hate then, until that broadcaster and his minions poisoned your mind. 'Party Poison' is a monstrosity, and a lie."

"It's who I am," Party retorted. "'Gerard Way' reminds me of the past, and feeling as if I'd lost all my originality, just having to follow blindly, without question, like the rest of the world. 'Take the drugs and shut the hell up.' Become a drone. Until I was told who, and what, BL/Industries really were." His eyes narrowed. "So you came after me, and you murdered my parents."

Korse shrugged. "I did my duty."

"And now I'm doing mine." Poison retorted. "And I'm doing it for them, and for Mikey."

Korse's lips twitched. "Ah yes, Mikey."

Gerard blinked. _Idiot_

"The brother you happily led into your dangerous, sick, demented world." Korse snarled. "You'll get him killed too. You'll get them _all_ killed."

"It's his choice," Party told him, bluntly. "They all had a choice whether they wanted to stay with me." He lifted his head. "That's right, Korse. _A choice._

" _Liar!_ " Korse suddenly shouted. "You didn't give any of them a choice. They followed you blindly. They always followed you, didn't they?" And then, more calmly, he added. "You are a fugitive, Way. A rebel. You are a piece of dirt, an insect that needs to be squashed."

Party actually smiled. "Yeah, maybe. But at least I'm a somebody."

"Yes, you are." Korse mused. "The leader of the Fabulous Killjoys. Well, Party Poison, tell me about Doctor Death Defying; who is he?"

Party pursed his lips together. He knew this had been coming.

"I don't know," he said carefully. "He just broadcasts on the radio and we like what he says. That's all."

Korse raised an eyebrow. "Lying to me is foolish, Poison. You will answer my questions. Everyone always does."

"Is that right?"

Korse ignored the flippant remark, and carried on. "How are you tied to this Doctor? Why are you so loyal to him? Does he give you drugs? What kind of Doctor is he?"

Party did not bother to respond. He had nothing to say.

With a sigh, Korse changed tack. "Nothing? Well, tell me about the other Killjoys then. For example, where is the nearest base from here? Where were you heading to?"

"I don't know."

"You are their leader, you _must_ know!" Korse snarled.

"Don't you get it?" Party replied, almost pleasantly. "I'm not gonna tell you a fucking thing, you moronic bastard."

Korse backhanded the Killjoy, hard, whipping Party's head to the side sharply. The younger man took a moment to compose himself. Then, he looked back at Korse, and smiled.

' _I'm winning._ '

At that moment, the strap around Korse's wrist began to beep. With a look of hatred to Party, Korse answered the call.

"Yes?"

" _Sir, the Killjoys have gone._ "

"What do you mean, they've gone? Gone where?"

" _They drove away. We almost caught two, the youngest and the girl, but the others helped them to escape in their car. They have left the town._ "

Korse glanced at Party, who was pretending he hadn't heard.

"Very well," Korse snapped into his communicator. "Return here at once."

He cancelled the call, and then smiled at Party, clearly amused.

"They can't care too much about you after all, then. Have to say, I'm surprised; I thought you rebels always stuck together."

"They think I'm dead."

Korse blinked. "Perhaps. Or, they simply don't give a shit about what happens to you." He turned away from Party, his hands clasped behind his back, apparently considering.

"Drac," he snapped, at last, addressing one of his drones. "Fetch me the prototype from the vehicle, would you?"

The Drac inclined its head, and then disappeared to carry out his instructions.

Party eyed Korse nervously. He didn't like the sound of that. Korse saw his unease and he smiled warmly. "Oh, don't worry, Killjoy; you'll understand soon enough. But once you do, you might just wish that you'd talked to me when you had the chance."

"Don't bet on it."

Korse laughed. "Still defiant, Gerard? Good." He leaned over the younger man, gently fingering Party's red hair. The Killjoy felt sick to his stomach.

"Get the fuck off of me." He growled.

Another cold chuckle. "So unfriendly. Typical Killjoy. You know, Party? I could give you your life back. No more running, no more being chased. Just peace. I can reprogramme you, put you back into civilisation. You can forget all of this unpleasantness forever. Start again, a new, improved life." His hand moved to Party's groin. "I could personally see to improving your life dramatically. Give you everything you could ever need, in return for a few favours, obviously..."

He kissed the younger man's neck.

Party was disgusted. His stomach turned.

Korse rubbed him through his clothes. "So, _Gerard,_ what do you say?"

"I say: get your dirty hands off of me right now, or I will rip your throat out with my teeth." The Killjoy's eyes were blazing. "You perverted freak of nature."

Korse froze. He removed his hand from the younger man's lower body, and instead balled it into a fist. He grabbed the Killjoy by the throat, pinning him down helplessly beneath him. "Arrogant little fool," he snarled, and then he proceeded to pound Party's face as hard as he could with his fist. Blow after blow fell, and all Party could do was lay there and take it. He wondered if Korse would actually kill him, ending it then and there.

"Sir?"

Korse paused, breathing hard, his eyes flaming, his fist held in mid air.

A Drac had entered the room, and was standing behind Korse, waiting. Its leader finally released his hold on his victim's throat, and then turned and held out his hand. The Drac gave him a contraption that resembled a gun. Party, his face bloodied and bruised and one eye so badly beaten that he could hardly open it, looked on, completely confused.

A drug gun?

"A shooter?" He muttered. Korse's lips twitched but he didn't reply. Despite the pain he was in, Party snorted. "You think I haven't seen one of those fuckers before? Had that used on me plenty of times back in the old days, Korse. Hell, I used to shoot your fucking darts into my own arm with that thing once upon a fucking time. That's how you control people, isn't it? You and your cock-sucking company fucking around with people's minds. You wanna do that to me? Well, it won't work."

"No?" Korse asked, amused.

"Your drugs don't work on me," Party told him, proudly. "The Doc saw to that. So, go ahead and stick your fucking drug darts in my arm. I couldn't give a shit."

Korse chuckled. "This isn't a control drug, Party. It's something altogether new and exciting. A fresh solution Better Living Industries has come up with to deal with the rebel menace, and any traitor who has ever aided any of you, in a clean and efficient manner. There are ten different levels, ten different points of intensity. Level Eight reduced the most recent test subject into a completely vegetable state. It's only right I should perform the final tests on the Killjoy leader before it's official release into the world."

He grabbed for Party's beloved jacket then, and ripping it off of him, he tossed it into the corner of the room. The rough treatment caused Party to cry out, much to Korse's pleasure. "That rib must be painful," he cooed. "Why don't I give you a little something for the pain?" Party didn't respond. Korse smiled, and leaned over his victim. He brandished the shooter like a weapon. "Hold still," he whispered. "You'll feel a slight prick." He chuckled. "To begin with."

Korse then shot the drug dart into Party's bare arm.

And then moved back.

And waited.

Party felt a sharp pain in his forearm when the dart entered. He swore angrily. That fucking company and their freakish drugs. He then readied himself, unsure of what to expect. His eyes never left Korse's. Then, with no more delay, the agony came. It was so intense, so all-consuming that Party lost control of his limbs. He knew he was screaming but could hear no sound, knew he was writhing uncontrollably but could no longer feel the floor beneath him. All that mattered was the pain. There was no other thought in his head, all he knew was the torture he was going through and the silent prayers he was sending up for it to end. No one was listening. He clawed at the ground around him as he desperately tried to escape the agony he was enduring, but he was trapped by the unseen force with which he had been injected. The drug that was coursing through his system, claiming him, destroying him. As everything began to fade to black, Party's final thought was how relieved he was that his suffering was almost finally over. He knew he was going to die, and he welcomed it.

' _No more. Please._ '

And then, the pain lessened. He could see and hear again. His senses had returned. He blinked. His head and eyes hurt, and he swallowed the bile back down that was coming up his throat. He focused on the smirking face of Korse, who was standing over him, apparently enjoying every second of Party's agony. Finally, the pain was over, and Party was aware that he was lying on his back, his entire body soaked in sweat. There was not a part of him that didn't ache from the ordeal to which he had just been subjected. It took him a few seconds longer to realize that Korse had placed his boot on his chest, and was pinning him down.

"That was just a demonstration for you, Way." Korse mocked him. "I only used level two on you. Imagine how a higher level would feel. The pain is so much worse, Gerard. Some rebels we tested it on, they only lasted two minutes on level five before they lost their minds. How will you do, will you make it past level six?"

Party gazed back at him. And, just for a moment, he felt a flicker of fear.

Korse beamed down at him and Party knew why; he'd seen the panic there too, only too clearly, on the other man's face.

And Party knew the bastard had won.

"So," Korse purred, stroking Party's hair once again, " _Now_ you're smart enough to be afraid of me, Way? Too late, scum." He stepped away from the Killjoy, and smiled, showing teeth. It was not a nice smile.

"I still have some questions for you, Party Poison. And you will answer them, one way or another."

Party did not respond.

Korse held up the shooter once more, and was delighted to see Party flinch.

"Now then, Killjoy," He continued. "Shall we begin again?"

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Party was lying on his back, his gaze locked on a dirty mark on the ceiling. Korse was stood away from him, staring out of the wreckage that had once been the doorway.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" The older man said, thoughtfully, as he gazed out at the sunshine.

Party frowned. He glanced in Korse's general direction. "It's a desert," he replied. " _Everything_ is a desert. I hate it."

Korse pursed his lips. "But I assumed you loved your 'no man's land', Party Poison." He chuckled as he spoke. "You rats do like to spend all your time prowling around out there, playing in the sand, don't you?"

Party could feel his hackles rising once again but he contained his anger and instead, knowing it would frustrate the bastard all the more, merely smirked. "What's the matter, Korse?" He asked, grimacing from the effort it took for him just to turn over to regard his enemy. "Did we get under your skin?"

Korse's cheeks reddened. He moved closer. "I'd worry more about what's about to be under _your_ skin if I were you, Poison."

Party stared coldly at the other man through his one good eye. Korse glared back, his eyes narrowing. Finally, the Killjoy glanced away, and once again gazed upwards. He didn't see the point in arguing further. He knew Korse was attempting to gain a reaction from him, the bastard needed to see that tiny flicker of fear again. Party was adamant that, no matter how scared he was, he would not show any further weakness to Korse. It was what Korse got off on, and Party refused to repeat that pleasure. Party knew only too well what was coming, and he could only hope that he was prepared when the next wave of agony hit him. 

He knew it was a pointless wish - no one could deal with such horrendous torture.

Not even the Doctor.

_Not even Frankie._

He gave himself a small shake. What good was thinking about Frank going to do him now? Frank was not going to come for him. None of them were. In situations like this, his instructions had always been clear:

_If we lose one man, we can't afford to lose any more. So, we move on._

It was harsh and it was cold. But then, they were at war; there was no other option open to them.

But, of course, none of the Killjoys had been unlucky enough (or stupid enough, depending how one looked at it) to get themselves caught before. Would _he_ actually have been able to leave any of them behind if he had to make the choice? If push had come to shove, would he have been able to drive away, leaving his brother, lover and best friend to suffer or die?

He didn't know the answer, though he had a good idea.

"Party, did you hear me?"

He was pulled out of his musings abruptly. His gaze flickered over to Korse, who was leaning against the wall, watching him.

"I asked you how you were feeling."

Party rolled his eyes. "What are you now? My psychiatrist?"

Korse laughed loudly, and Party cringed at the sound.

"You must be in some serious discomfort," The exterminator continued. "The effects of that drug are quite devastating…"

"Why don’t you try injecting yourself with it and tell me?" The Killjoy spat, interrupting him. Korse's eyes flashed but he didn't respond.

"Also," he carried on, "You took quite a beating. Cracked a rib, unless I am mistaken."

Party clenched his fists. "You should know," he hissed. "You did it to me."

Korse grinned but acted as if he hadn't heard Party's words.

"I can ease your suffering. All you have to do is answer some questions for me." His smile faded. "It would be unwise for you to fight me further, Gerard."

"I told you," Party snarled, "That's _not_ my name anymore."

Korse shrugged. "Well then, whatever you wish to be known as, let's try this again: Where are the other Killjoys?"

Party gestured theatrically. "How should I know? Do you see them in here?"

Korse's mouth twitched. "Where is your nearest hide-out to this town?"

"Depends." Party tossed his hair back. "What town is this again?"

The Exterminator stepped closer. "Don't be a fool, Gerard."

Party didn't answer.

"Way!" Korse snapped. "This attitude won't help you, you know."

Still, there was no response.

" _Party Poison!_ "

Party banged his fist down on the floor. "Fucking fantastic! Well done, Korse. You _do_ know my name after all."

Korse let out a loud sigh. He then held up the shooter once more for Party to see.

"Is this really how you want it to go?" He asked him.

Party could feel a slight tremor inside, but he had to ignore it. He couldn't give in to his panic; he had to withstand this, for all of their sakes.

"I won't tell you anything," he whispered. "Whatever you do to me."

Korse reached out to take hold of Party's arm, but this time the Killjoy knew what to expect. He kicked and struggled, trying to force the torturer away from him. His small show of resistance snapped the two Dracs still in the room to attention and they hurried over, each grabbing one of the desperate Killjoy's arms and holding him still.

Now, he was helpless.

And Korse took the opportunity to punch Party, right above his injured rib.

An anguished scream tore from Party's throat. He honestly believed he could have passed out from the pain.

Korse nodded approvingly, grabbed Party's arm and once again shot the tiny dart into his victim's arm. And then, with a wave of his hand, the Dracs released Party and stepped back.

Just like last time, the effect was almost immediate. Party writhed at Korse's feet, and screamed constantly as wave after torturous wave of pure agony swept through him. Oh God, it hurt. It hurt more than Party had ever believed possible.

And as he lay there, tears streaming down his contorted face, for the first time ever, Party Poison wished for death.

He could hear Korse's voice demanding answers from him. He seemed so far away but yet his words were loud and clear.

"You brought this on yourself, Gerard. I can end this agony; I can stop it right now. Just tell me where the remaining Killjoys are."  
Was he shaking his head? Party didn't know. He had no control over his body. But his mind, that was still his. And he knew he  
couldn't answer that voice.

' _He'll hurt Frank. I can't let him hurt Frank, or Mikey. Ray is there too. Ray would stay strong. They all would. I've got to get through this for them.'_

The voice was closer now. Right by his ear.

"How long do you think you can hold out, Way?"

"I–I..." He couldn't speak. Just trying to form words made his head feel like it was ready to explode.

"Then tell me this, Killjoy. The girl who is running with you, who is she?"

Party was not screaming now, his throat was hurting, and he presumed he had lost his voice. He could only croak and gasp when he was seized by the latest agonising attack. He would not answer. He couldn't.

Korse, who had been kneeling beside the tortured man, grew impatient for answers. He moved so he was crouching over his stricken enemy, and then he placed his hands on either side of Party's head, and pulled the man's head up.

Party, horrified by the added pressure, began to scream again.

"Tell me!" Korse shouted, and spittle rained down on him.

"I don't know..."

_'Stop. You have to stop. It hurts'._

Korse tightened his grip. "Don't lie to me, rebel!"

Party could only whimper in anguish. He couldn't take any more. His head was on fire, and Korse was slowly attempting to crush his skull. The intensity of it was all-consuming. He couldn't see any end to the agony he was experiencing so he had to follow the instructions. All he had to do was answer the voice and the pain would go away. He had no alternative now. He had to stop the torment. "I don't know anything!" He gasped out. "She's just a girl the Doc told me I had to find and protect for him."

Korse's eyes blazed.

_At last. A breakthrough._

He probed further, still not releasing his hold, relishing the knowledge that the other man's resolve was finally cracked. "What's her name?"

Party whimpered. He covered Korse's hands with his own, trying to pull them away but he was far too weak to bother his captor.

"Grace..." He mumbled.

Korse leaned closer. "Why does he need her?" He shook his victim, and gained yet another cry. "Why is she so important?"

"Let me go!"

"Tell me why he sent you to find her!"

" _I don't know!_ "

"Where does she come from?"

"I TOLD YOU I DON'T FUCKING KNOW!" He was shouting now. Every part of him was screaming. He needed this to stop. One way or another, he wanted out.

But Korse would not let up on him.

" _Tell me!_ "

Party could feel the tears sliding down his cheeks. He knew he was breaking but, at that moment, he didn't care; the shame no longer mattered. All he wanted was to be free of the non-stop torment he was enduring.

He squinted up at Korse, desperation in his eyes.

"Please." He pleaded. "We were sent to find her and get her to the base. I don't know anything else. Stop it!" He let out a low sob before repeating, " _Please!_ "

Korse was satisfied. He'd finally made some progress with the arrogant little maggot. He shook his head in disdain, and slowly loosened his hold. "Pathetic," he snarled. "Call yourself a leader? Look at you."

Party could only whimper in response. His eyes were tightly closed. He longed for the darkness to claim him, to take him far away, somewhere he would be safe, away from Korse and his questions, away from the constant torture. He could feel himself fading.

And then, the powerful grip on his head was gone, and the next thing he knew, he was slumped back on the ground, his body screaming in outrage. The pain faded at last, but every part of him still trembled uncontrollably. He curled up in on himself, trying to keep his beaten and aching body away from the man he could now sense was standing over him. Taking a deep breath, Party opened his eyes nervously to indeed find Korse towering above him, a look of deep satisfaction on his face.

"Everyone has a breaking point, Gerard Way," he taunted. "And it seems you have reached yours. I am slightly disappointed, I was certain you would hold out until level five, at least." He placed the shooter against Party's throat. "Why don't you beg some more for me, sweetheart? You're so pretty when you're terrified."

Party knew he was visibly trembling but he couldn't help it. Another thing he knew was that there was no way he could handle another dose of that drug. And judging by the expression of triumph he saw on Korse's face, he knew his enemy was also only too aware that there was precious little fight left in the Killjoy. Korse dropped to his knees, placing a hand on Party's chest, and gently moving it down the younger man's body. Party felt sick to his stomach but he couldn't resist. His limbs would not obey him when he tried to move away. It was as if his body no longer belonged to him.

' _It's because I belong to Korse now.'_

"You have two minutes to get your breath back and then we will begin again," he purred. "Don't tell me I'm not merciful." He flashed another cruel, toothy smile, and then proceeded to twirl his fingers around the Killjoys red hair once again. "You know you can't resist me now, don't you Party? There is no choice for you here, you will tell me everything I want to know about your fellow Killjoy scum, and your beloved 'Broadcaster'." He moved his hand to Party's face, and gently caressed his cheek. Party hated himself. Why couldn't he force the bastard off of him? How could he just sit there and take this sick man's touch like this? Korse seemed to read Party's inner struggle.

"Because," he added; "If you are stupid enough to refuse me again," and all of a sudden he struck out violently, and hit the young man hard across the face, earning another cry of anguish from his victim. "I will ensure that you regret ever learning the name Doctor Death Defying." He tilted his head, smirking evilly. "Do I make myself clear?"

There was a moment's silence while Party refused to respond or even look at him. When the Killjoy did finally meet his gaze once more, Korse was astonished, and actually impressed, to see a tiny flicker of defiance in those blackened and beaten eyes.  
 _It seemed Party Poison was not quite done after all._

"You'll never make me regret any of it," Party told him firmly. "You'll have to kill me before I betray the Doc or the Killjoys." He managed a pained smile. "Is _that_ clear, motherfucker?"

Korse bristled. He raised his hand to strike Party again, but Party didn't flinch.

"Running out of ideas already?" Party taunted.

Korse saw red. He growled, and gripped the other man by the throat.

"You are going to be so _very_ sorry." He whispered, and raised the shooter. "Level seven, perhaps? How long do you think you will last before you descend into madness?"

Party swallowed hard, and tried to prepare himself for the fate he knew was coming.

And then, both men froze. The sound of Korse’s wrist communicator suddenly interrupted the standoff. The high-pitched noise ripped through Party and he covered his ears, trying to block out the noise.

Korse stood, stepping away from Party. He then pressed down on the device and moved his wrist closer to speak.

"Korse here."

" _Korse, I have been waiting. I want your report._ "

Party looked up. It was a woman's voice. He recognised her accent. She was the woman from BLI's patronising little propaganda schemes: the Japanese woman with the hard face and cold eyes. Party had never liked her. Was she Korse's boss?

"I have captured the leader of the Killjoys and I am questioning him now."

" _What have you learned from the rebel?_ "

Korse glanced down at his prisoner. "He has divulged some information about the girl that has been spotted running with his gang."

" _Who is she?_ "

"He doesn't know."

" _Helpful._ "

Party almost smiled. He could see how uncomfortable Korse was and he was enjoying seeing the bastard squirm.

"He will give up more information. He is the rebel leader known as Party Poison; Doctor Death has let him into his confidence. I just need some more time, he will tell me everything."

" _You are out of time, Korse. There are too many Draculoids away from the City. If the rebel groups were to attack us now in large numbers, we would be unprotected. You know how important tomorrow is. We go global with the latest products. Your little personal vendetta against the Killjoys will have to wait. Now, end it and return at once. Do you understand?_ "

Party closed his eyes. He understood what that meant: she had just ordered his execution. He thought of Frankie, Mikey and Ray, and hoped they would be okay.

"I can find out more from him!" Korse was arguing. "I can catch all of them. He's too useful just to kill!" Party opened his eyes again. As he listened to Korse pushing for his life to spared, Party wondered what would actually be more merciful to him. Whatever Korse had had in mind for him would not have been good, yet this woman wanted to spare him any more suffering. Not that she gave a fuck about him obviously, but Party would happily take what he could get.

" _He is a rebel, Korse. There are plenty of rebels out there. Find another one." Her tone became scathing. "It is your fault that you have only managed to capture a grand total of five in all the time you have been trusted with the task of hunting them down._ " 

"Listen to me! To kill this one is a waste. We have a Killjoy, one of the most well known of all the rebels. He has contact with the Broadcaster himself. We can use him to our advantage. You must reconsider!"

The line went quiet. Both Korse and Party waited.

Finally, she spoke again.

" _Very well. But no more interrogation. I need you back here. Bring him to me. I can scan his brain for the information we need._ " 

Party's heart sank. He had heard of this machine before; they would be able to see images right inside his mind, he wouldn't be able to resist. They would know everything he knew. The Killjoys and the Doc had hoped that the rumours that BLI now had such technology at their disposal were a myth. Obviously not. And now they were going to use it on him.

Korse looked almost gleeful.

"And once you've scanned him, I request that you then turn him back over to me," he continued. "For reprogramming."

"No," Party whispered. Korse looked over at him, and smiled.

" _He is a Killjoy,_ " the woman was stating. " _Reprogramming will fail in his case. His resolve is likely too strong to be conditioned. He will reject the process._ "

Korse's eyes shone as he fixed Party with a knowing smile.

"Not if I break him first."

She had clearly heard enough. " _He is your prisoner, Korse. Do as you wish. But I want you to leave as soon as possible. And see that the towners there forget everything they have witnessed. Use the mind-altering drugs if necessary._ "  
"Of course." He replied and then the connection was broken.

Still smiling grimly at the captured Killjoy, Korse pressed his communicator once more, and this time a Drac answered the call.  
" _Yes, Sir?_ "

"We will be leaving very shortly. We will also be transporting the prisoner back to the city. Make sure the vehicle is prepared."

" _Will we be leaving any of our numbers behind, Sir?_ "

"Some, to administer drugs to these people. Order all Dracs to round up the townsmen and women, and hold them until I am ready."

" _Yes, Sir._ "

Korse cancelled the call, and then turned to regard his now clearly fearful prisoner.

"So," he mused. "How should I go about breaking you, Gerard?"

Party didn't correct him this time. Instead he edged backwards, grunting in pain, until his back was touching the wall behind him.

"Fuck you." He managed, though somewhat weakly.

He quickly realized his error.

Korse titled his head, and chuckled softly. "What a good idea," he replied.

Party blinked.

 _He wouldn't..._

Korse walked slowly towards Party. He paused only a few feet away from him and then leaned forward and pressed his lips against the astonished, and completely disgusted, Party Poison's, forcing him into a bruising kiss.

When he broke away, Korse could see, to his utter pleasure, that Party was truly terrified.

"Why so scared?" Korse asked him quietly, "All I want is to get to know you some more..." and once again stroked the younger man's face in an imitation of affection.

Then he slowly licked his lips.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Korse could feel the excitement pulsating through him as he approached the trapped Killjoy, and smiled as Poison flinched violently. He had sent away his two remaining Dracs, not wanting them to witness what he was about to do. All for the good of BLI, naturally. This wasn't about him. He couldn't help but smirk when he saw that the rebel was watching him with wide, panicked eyes, and apparently attempting to back himself further into the wall behind him, almost as if he thought he could escape by melting into the bricks. Party was revealing his desperation to get away from Korse and the fate he had in store for him, but he clearly knew that his efforts were futile.

There was no escape.

Korse flashed him a knowing smile. He felt like a predator, preparing to devour his helpless prey - not that his prey of choice seemed ready to accept the fact that he was beaten. Korse was pleased. The more the Killjoy resisted him, the better his final inevitable defeat would taste.

"Don't you fucking touch me!" Poison snarled at him, and pulled away as Korse reached out for him. "You hear me, you asshole? I will fucking kill you if you come-"

"I don't want to listen to your voice any more, Gerard." Korse intercepted, a hand held up in warning. "You had your chance to talk to me. I have now formed the opinion that actions speak louder than words anyhow, and we may find another use for that wicked tongue of yours." His eyes blazed like fire as he regarded the younger man. "What do you think?"

Party stared back at him, trying to catch his breath. He was clearly terrified, and Korse relished every fearful look. He knew that Party understood exactly what Korse intended to do to him. The Exterminator tilted his head, considering the younger man. Of course the rebel knew, he was no fool. He had survived this long after all. But Korse could see that realisation was finally beginning to sink in: the realisation that Gerard Way - still in there somewhere, underneath all the bullshit and arrogance that he had hid behind the identity of Party Poison - was in fact helpless and out of his depth, trapped in a situation that he didn't have a snowball in hell's chance of escaping. Korse could see the panic building within the other man with every passing second, and it was beautiful to watch. The previously unflappable Killjoy, the most arrogant, pig-headed and stubborn of them all, was falling apart before his eyes, reduced to a quivering mess. Korse wished he had the chance to get television cameras in there and film this moment, sending it out live to every home in Battery City, a clear warning to all those on the planet who chose to stand against Better Living Industries.

But that was impossible, of course. Impossible because he knew what he was about to do was wrong, and illegal, in every sense of the word.

Such a shame therefore that Gerard Way was leaving him with no other choice.

Korse grinned at his prisoner, as he slowly knelt down before him. He was in no rush; he wanted to make the most of this victory. Party stared back, curious, his expression nervous. He was breathing loudly, reminding Korse of a creature trapped in the headlights. Finally, Korse knew he had waited long enough. He smirked, and then felt into his jacket pocket, pulling out the shooter once more. The cold smirk turned into a wide smile, and he gestured theatrically with the device, mocking the young man slumped on the floor next to him.

"So, shall we try level six?" He enquired, an eyebrow raised in curiosity. He laughed.

Party let out a low sigh. "Why don't you just finish this?" He asked quietly. Korse was pleased to pick up on the slight tremor in his voice. "For fuck's sake, Korse. Just end it."

Korse chuckled, giving a small shake of his head. "End it? Putting you out of your misery, you mean? Like the animal you are?" He moved closer, his lips almost touching Poison's cheek. "You actually think I'd let you off the hook that easily?"

Party closed his eyes, refusing to reply. Korse wasn't surprised. The rebel was desperately clutching at straws. The Exterminator held every card, and Poison knew it. He had no options left to him. All he could do was sit there and take whatever punishment Korse had planned. And knowing he held so much power over this rebel warmed Korse's heart.

If he'd had a heart.

"I'm sorry, Gerard." Korse taunted. "I'm not going to let you take the easy way out." He gestured towards the door. "Unlike your fellow Killjoy scum. It will be quick for them." He smiled. "I can promise you one thing though, Party Poison. You will be the one to end this once and for all, not me."

"What do you mean?" Party was confused. And he was scared. Any hint of color remaining quickly drained from his face as he digested Korse's words.

Korse chuckled. He grasped his captive's arm, holding the shooter against him, and beaming with anticipation of what was to come.

"Oh, No need for you to worry, rebel." He mocked. "You'll find out everything soon enough. Just as we will find out everything that you know from that pretty little head of yours." He tightened his grip. "I would not feel too bad about your team of misfits though. Trust me, they are the lucky ones." He snarled and released Party's arm, grabbing him by the jaw instead, forcing the Killjoy to meet his gaze. "You are the one I want to hurt, Gerard Way."

Party squirmed, and tried unsuccessfully to pull back from Korse, but the other man held on.

"It's you that is going to suffer for every moment of stress, for every headache, for every second of trouble that the word 'Killjoy' has ever caused for my company and me. Your little pals Fun Ghoul and Jet Star, even your brother, they do not concern me at all now that I have you, although their deaths will be a nice source of entertainment. You're the one I wanted, the one I spent all that time, money and effort searching for and, lucky me, it was not in vain." He struck Party hard across the face and the wretched man fell down, grunting in pain. Korse glared hatefully at him. "I've waited a long time to watch you break, my friend. You are mine." He pulled Party up again, holding him once more by his arm, and then ran his finger down his cheek, smiling evilly. "Scream for me now, baby."

As quick as a viper, he struck, injecting a third dart into Party Poison's blood stream. A few seconds passed as Party stared up at him, his eyes wide and terrified. And then, it began again. Korse, with much satisfaction, watched as Party once more writhed uncontrollably at his feet, the torturous drug flowing through his system just as before, burning him up from the inside as it went. Only this time, the agony was even more intense.

The older man looked on, enthralled, as Party Poison was consumed by his own torment. Party screamed in horror, his whole body soaking wet from sweat, and trembling all over, as the drug took full hold. His red hair was slumped forward over his face, his skin as white as that of a ghost's and, to Korse's amusement, the tormented man began to claw at the floor with his fingers, trying to escape the hell he was trapped in, soon leaving bloody marks on the floor from where two of his nails had been torn right off. Korse smiled wistfully as he watched, recalling the way all the effects of the drug had been described to him. The test subjects had suffered in more horrifyingly painful ways than even the scientists had expected. They had been seized first of all by constant agonising attacks in their stomachs, and shouted out as wave after wave of pure agony gripped them. Then, their blood had begun to boil and they had cried as they had burned from the inside. Next had come the crippling headaches that had supposedly felt like non-stop hammer blows. They had screamed themselves hoarse, begged and pleaded for mercy that had not been granted. They had been rebels, or had been convicted of aiding one, and their fates had been justified. The ones that had survived had told how every muscle had felt like it was tearing, every bone had seemed to be breaking. They later described their suffering as if they had been torn apart from the inside by a crazed, rampant animal. Most of the test subjects had not lived beyond level seven; some had even gone insane and had had to be put down. Korse had taken great pleasure in witnessing the experiments, but this was a whole new level of enjoyment for Korse. To watch this smug, conceited rebel who had stood up to Korse and his company being subjected to such torture was Korse's idea of Heaven. He, and those like him, had tried to bring BLI down, attempting to ruin Korse's life in the process. He despised them.

Party Poison in particular.

This was payback. Pure and simple.

And now, he had been ordered to not only torture the Killjoy, he had also been instructed to break him completely.

His evil smile broadened.

He took hold of the younger man, knowing that due to the ordeal he was currently facing, Poison would not be able to see or hear him. The rebel had given into the darkness, lost in his own agony, completely unaware of anything but his own personal hell. This thought pleased Korse further, if he could time this just right, he could force the Killjoy to experience the ultimate humiliation – just as the drug was wearing off. Poison would emerge from one hell to immediately face another. Laughing, he grabbed at the shaking man and rolled him over onto his stomach, pinning him down beneath his heavier frame. He could sense Party's heightened panic and knew the man was having problems breathing. His enemy's fear only added to Korse's excitement and lust and he quickly pushed down his own pants. He then took no time in relieving Party of his clothing too, leaving the younger man fully exposed to the hot air. Still the rebel didn't react, or perhaps, couldn't react. He was still controlled by his suffering and despair, unknowing of what was about to happen to him. Though his screaming was less now, due, Korse supposed, to his voice being so sore and hoarse, the drug was still inside him, working its dark magic. Korse was gratified to see that Party Poison had surrendered and was now lying still beneath him, his face turned to the side, his eyes squeezed shut. He clearly had no strength left. His contorted face and tiny whimpers gave away the true extent of the agony he was still experiencing, and his body continued to shake violently. Korse was unsure how much longer the effects of the drug on him would last. It had varied depending on the subject. He could not afford to delay any longer, no matter how much he was enjoying the show.

He had work to do, after all.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small tube. He smiled coldly, and emptied the contents of the tube into his hands. He then rubbed the slippery lotion up and down the length of his cock, moaning in anticipation. When he had finished, he tossed the empty container away, and after pushing one finger in to stretch Poison, and then another, he then hurriedly lined himself up against Party Poison's tiny opening. He wasn't concerned any further about preparation, or pre-show, he wanted the other man to know that Korse was claiming him; he wanted him to remember it. Korse had no problems with any pain he might experience, pain was what he needed. It made him feel alive. With a hiss of desire, Korse pushed forward, and entered Party in one hard thrust. Korse gasped. The rebel was so tight; this wasn't just about business after all then, he would get to enjoy this, too.

He began to thrust repeatedly, being careful not to cause too much damage, not that he was in the least bit concerned about his victim's well being. Though it would be counter-productive for him to cause the other man any permanent harm. Party Poison, leader of the Killjoys, would soon be no more, and Gerard Way, the BLI operative, would be born in his place. Korse was not carrying out this assault to break the other man's body; he needed that in one piece if his plan was to succeed. No, he needed to destroy the man's very soul, and he would do that in any way he could.

This activity was not about sex. Sexual desires in any way were discouraged by the corporation. Reproduction was clearly a necessity, but sex between their customers, or should that be _the world_ , could not be controlled or organised, and that lack of power was what truly scared the company. To touch this rebel filth in this debauched way went against all of Korse's beliefs, but he was willing to make that sacrifice on this one occasion. He needed the Killjoy broken, and he felt this was the quickest and easiest way to achieve his goal. It was simply a means to an end.

And, if he was honest, being inside the other man gave him a feeling of such intoxication; it was hard to keep himself contained. He _wanted_ to lose control, grip the rebel hard and pound into him until he tore him apart and made him sob and beg and bleed all over the floor, but Korse was stronger-willed than that. He would not give in to his primal urges. He growled softly, as the pleasure of Party Poison's ass squeezing around his cock swept over him in waves. He knew he wouldn't be able to last much longer.

He heard the man trapped beneath him let out a low whimper, and he smirked to himself. _Perfect._ The drug was wearing off, and Party was coming out of his agony-ridden haze. He was awakening, into yet more misery, just as Korse had planned.

"Mine," Korse hissed. "You're mine."

His victim let out a tiny sob and Korse heard him moan, " _No."_

Korse laughed, and then responded by quickening his thrusts. Party shook his head, as he evidently tried to disconnect himself from what was happening.

Korse would not allow that.

"Feel that?" He whispered. "Do you _feel_ me, Gerard?"

" _Stop,_ please. It hurts..."

The Exterminator smiled. "So good, Killjoy. Tell me, where are your jibes now?"

Korse's ears pricked up with interest when he heard the red head whisper two more words in response:

" _Frankie... help..."_

The Exterminator paused, buried deep within his enemy. He was intrigued, this was quite unexpected. For the Killjoy to think of his friend in that moment... suddenly a world of possibilities had been unlocked. Korse smiled satisfactorily.

_'Nice._ ' He mused. ' _Yet more leverage to use against the Killjoy scum.'_

Korse pulled out, and then slammed back into Poison, leaving his victim under no disillusion as to whom he belonged. He then tutted when he felt his victim moving, and glowered as Party even attempted to lift his head, mumbling incoherently in panic and shock. The exterminator was happy for the Killjoy to feel the full effect of the attack on him, but he would not allow the devastated man to even consider fighting back. He grabbed Party's head and forced him back down against the floorboards, giving the rebel no other option but to lie there and whimper his distress as Korse continued to take exactly what he wanted from him.

In and out. In and out. Harder. Faster. The sweat began to drip off of Korse's face as he approached his climax. It felt so good; better than he could have ever imagined, and Party's whimpering only made the act all the more perfect.

One final thrust, and then he was coming, deep within Poison, and the rebel was moaning and cringing and _feeling_ Korse's seed as it burned his damaged insides.

Burning his very soul.

_The burning star; he would not shine so brightly now._

Korse collapsed on top of Party, utterly spent, trying to catch his breath. He forced his victim down hard, smacking his head onto the ground. Korse then lifted himself off of the younger man and sat back on his haunches, watching the rebel closely. The Killjoy made no effort to move, even though he was no longer pinned, and Korse was overjoyed to see that the man was trembling violently.

Korse laughed as he leaned forward again, revelling as the other man visibly flinched repeatedly. He placed his lips against Party's ear while he also gently stroked his now sweat-soaked red hair. Smirking cruelly, he whispered softly to the young man, taking great pleasure in Party's obvious disgust and fear.

"I have to thank you, Gerard. At least now I can always say that I got to fuck a Killjoy."

Party actually sobbed.

Oh, that was music to the Exterminator's ears.

"I hope I didn't hurt you too much. That was not my intention." He glanced down at the man's still exposed backside and then forced a finger up inside of him again. Party cried out in horror, wriggling, trying to get away, but there was nowhere to go. "Not too much tearing," Korse reported, as he felt his way inside his squirming prisoner. "You'll be just fine, some discomfort but it shouldn't be too bad, not for a big brave Killjoy like yourself." He pulled his finger out again, and then grinned down at Party triumphantly. "Do you know what this makes you, Gerard? Do you know what you have _become?"_ He paused, waiting for Party to respond, but again, no reply was forthcoming. He pursed his lips together. "You are a whore, _Party Poison._ Nothing more."

"Leave me alone," came the softly spoken reply.

Korse threw back his head, and laughed.

"Do you know the effort I put in to hunting you down?" He mocked him mercilessly. "Why did I bother, hmm? You haven't exactly lived up to the hype, have you?"

"Sorry to disappoint you."

The Exterminator stopped and gazed at Poison. There was a tiny flicker of the old defiance in his tone, which Korse could not allow. He leaned closer. "You should be disappointed in _yourself,_ Way." Korse hissed, as he rammed his point home. "Is this what your father meant, when he told you to run? Is this why he and your mother sacrificed themselves? So you could let them and yourself down in such a sickening way?"

"Shut up." It sounded pathetic even to Party, but he had nothing else to give. He closed his eyes, trying to block Korse out. He could still feel the bastard inside of him, so deep, contaminating each and every part of him. Party placed a shaking hand against his forehead and screwed his eyes up tight.

Everything hurt. He felt dirty, used. Party Poison knew he was fading fast, becoming that scared little boy that he had fought so hard to leave behind. But Gerard Way could only take so much and that was who he really was, wasn't it? Gerard Way wanted to give up, and go some place else. Anywhere else. Somewhere safe and warm.

_He wanted to be with Frank._

No. He fought back the tears threatening to spill, opened his eyes, and glared up at his tormentor. He was still Party Poison. He had to keep fighting. He couldn't give in. He _would not_ give Korse what he wanted.

_He wouldn't._

But there was no stopping Korse. His poisonous words kept coming.

"You were somebody once," the older man purred. "You had a family, real friends, a pretty little girlfriend. You had fame and fortune. Look at what you've turned into. The shame you must be feeling. Your pride was all you had left, you lost everything else. Now that's gone too."

"You took all of that away from me," Party snapped. "You killed everyone I loved."

"Is that so?" Korse laughed. "And I thought that wasn't you any more?"

_'Damn it.'_ Party stared at him, pure hatred in his eyes. He knew he had just given a piece of himself away. ' _Fucking idiot.'_

He looked away, grimacing from the pain the movement caused.

"You were a promising art student, once upon a time." Korse kept on, a smirk on his face. "So _talented,_ so _clever._ Such an individualist, weren't you, Gerard? Everyone telling you how _wonderful_ you were. You had everything going for you. You were loved by so many. They believed in you and your message. I know about your past, Gerard. You and your friends and what you tried to leave behind. _I know who you all are._ Or should that be, were? If you had only given yourself to the corporation, Gerard, and allowed us to utilise your talents, and your name, you could have achieved great things. Swapping one _chemical_ for another, you could say?"

Gerard looked up sharply. He fought desperately against reacting to the hated man's taunts. Korse smirked back at him, before continuing; "Instead, you chose _this._ Hiding behind a fake name, following the leader, running around with your little friends, always running away from the past, never looking back because you're scared of what you will see. Sound familiar?"

"You don't have a clue," Party replied. _Just stop._

Korse grinned, ignoring the interruption. "And now, you run after a pathetic loser of a man, a man who uses you for his own ends, and then abandons you at the first opportunity he gets." He suddenly gripped Party's hair, causing the Killjoy to moan in pain. "Where is he now? Your precious Doctor Death Defying? Where are any of them now? Ray? Mikey?" A knowing smile. " _Frankie?"_

"Staying alive," Party retorted at once. He couldn't go there. He just couldn't. When he thought about what he'd lost, that was when thinking became unbearable.

' _Don't talk to me about them. Don't make me think about them. Please. Hurt me again. Rape me, torture me. Kill me if you want to. But don't make me miss them.'_

"They acted how I taught them to," he muttered, out loud. "If any of us were ever captured or killed, the others keep running. They'll keep on fighting after I'm gone." He found some strength from somewhere and clung to it for dear life. And he knew what it was: his belief in the others. Defiance returned to those eyes as they fixed once again on Korse's. "Maybe they'll even come after you." Poison smiled, despite his discomfort. "You sick mother fucker."

Korse stared at him for a few seconds. His eyes were flaming and Poison cringed, ready for the blows. But they never came. Instead, Korse began to laugh, which threw Party completely. He could only gape stupidly at Korse.

"You really are full of bullshit, aren't you, Gerard Way?" He grabbed Party by his throat and dragged him up to his feet, causing the Killjoy to cry out as his ravaged body screamed in response. "You think you are so tough, sitting there with your devil-may-care attitude," Korse snarled, shaking Party as if he were a rag doll. "But it's all an act, isn't it? You are still that frightened, lost little boy who misses his momma and has to keep running because he's too scared to face his past, and the life he said goodbye to." He leered at him. "Am I right?"

Party shook his head fiercely. He couldn't respond.

"No?" Korse continued, tightening his grip until Party started choking. "Then why play this game? Why become this big damn hero that people make up stories about? Why do all of _this?"_

He eased his hold, and Party, coughing, was relieved to take in huge deep breaths

"Someone has to fight you bastards," he finally replied. "I do it because I want to. It's who I am. I'm Party Poison."

Korse sighed. "But it is all a _lie,_ Gerard. 'Party Poison' is not _real."_ The older man frowned, considering him for a beat. "There is another way. I can give you the life you crave, offer you another option. And, don't you see? That is what will happen when I take you back to Battery City with me. You can start over, get a new life. A better life. Away from those that lead you astray, and then leave you to your enemies to save their own asses."

"You're doing this for my benefit, right, Korse?"

Korse nodded. "Yes."

Party's eyes flashed. He believed in the cause too much, despite his fear, to not have his say. Whatever the consequences. He would _not_ give in.

"Better Living is the lie," he replied, stubbornly, grimacing through the pain. "I won't let you fuck with my brain. I'll fight it. You'll never win."

Korse had heard enough. "Do you know what you are going to do?" he asked him, tightening his grip enough to bruise, his tone low and dangerous. "Once you have been scanned and reprogrammed? Do you know what your role in the company will be?" He leaned in ever closer, now right in the rebel's face. "You'll be my own little super soldier. I'll train you myself, and then, I'll send you out _there."_ He sprayed Party with spittle, grinning devilishly. "You'll walk into the headquarters of your rebel base armed with your custom-made BLI ray gun, and you will _smile_ for me as you blow every single man, woman and child rebel off the face of this planet;" he shook him hard; "Starting with your baby brother. His name is Mikey, isn't it?"

_'Oh God. Please, no.'_

_'He would never... they couldn't make him.’_

"I won't do it," Party stated, out loud, shaky but determined. "You can't make me."

Korse laughed. "We'll see," he purred. He kissed the Killjoy's cheek, and delighted in how Party attempted to recoil away from him. "When you are mine, I'll show you exactly what I can make you do." He raised an eyebrow. "I do wonder though, what will your brother's last words to you be? I wonder how he will react in that glorious moment when he manages to figure out that the mighty Party Poison turned into a traitor? And I wonder what kind of look he will give you, just before you blow his head off?" He tossed his head, guffawing at his own 'joke'.

Party trembled.

_Mikey._

No.

Very clearly, he whispered; "Korse, go - fuck - yourself."

After a moment's disbelief, Korse threw back his head and bellowed with laughter. Then, he stared at Party, his eyes blazing. "Didn't you notice, Gerard? _You're_ the one who got fucked tonight." He gripped the other man's hair tightly, forcing him to look at him. Party tried to pull away but he was held firm. He scrunched his face up in disgust when Korse pressed his lips to his, forcing his tongue into Party's mouth. When he broke the kiss, Party could see that Korse was smirking. "And, I can have you again, any _time,_ any _way_ I want. You're my plaything, you're worthless!"

And with that, he pushed Party away from him. The weakened man tripped over the pants still pooling around his ankles and fell backwards, yelling out in pain when he landed heavily on his sore backside.

Korse stalked towards him, and Party backed away. He couldn't take much more. He was aching, he could feel every injury he had suffered at Korse's hand, the drug-induced torture, the beatings, cracked rib, the ray gun burn, the searing pain from his bloodied fingers, and his ever throbbing head. And of course, the rape. He had tried to shut out what Korse had done but the reminders were always there, the pain, and the feelings that he could not shake off. The feeling that he was tainted now. Korse had taken literally everything from him. Even his body was no longer his; Korse had taken that, too. Party had never felt so tired, and he knew he was on the verge of slipping into that ever-present darkness. He was happy to welcome it, but still Korse just kept on coming, refusing to let him go.

"You are nothing," Korse snarled. "A scared, sad child pretending to be a man with a made up name."

"I'm Party Poison," the rebel hissed, like a mantra. "Leader of the Killjoys."

And then, Korse was upon him, holding him still, and forming his hand into a fist, ready to attack.

"Tell me your name again." He demanded.

Party blinked.

"Party Poison," he answered.

Korse struck him hard across the face.

"Try again." He spat. "What is your name?"

"You deaf, Korse?" Party retorted. "I just told you. It's Party Poison."

Korse then backhanded Party. When he recovered and looked straight into those reptilian eyes once again, the Killjoy couldn't help but feel the fear building within him again.

He knew what Korse wanted. And he would not give it to him.

"What is your _name?"_

"Party Poison."

_"Wrong answer."_

This time, he kicked him viciously just above his cracked rib, and Party yelled out, tears springing to his eyes.

_'No more. I can't take this.'_

"Lets try again," Korse snarled. "What is your name?"

Party hesitated. And then, as steady as he could manage, he answered; "My name is Party Poison."

The hated man's fist connected with his jaw, and Party felt to one side and cried out from the harsh treatment. Then, Korse once more grabbed a fistful of red hair, and pulled Party's head back.

"How much more can you take?" He snapped. "How much more of this are you willing to suffer?" He released his victim again and Party let out a sigh of relief. Korse frowned. "They betrayed you. Left you here to suffer. What do you owe them?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"One more time," Korse stated. "What is your name?"

Party paused to catch his breath. And then, he stared defiantly up at his tormentor.

"I am Party Poison, leader of the Killjoys. I don't give a shit about what you do to me. You wanna fuck me again? Go right ahead. But I fucking swear to you that some day, I am gonna get to watch you fucking die, you son of a bitch."

Korse's looked as if he was ready to explode. Again, Party prepared himself for the beating he was certain was on the way, but again, he was mistaken. Korse was merely watching him, his eyes wide and confused.

And then, he sighed.

"You are brave, Gerard Way. And you are stubborn. I'm afraid you leave me no alternative."

He pulled out the shooter and held it up for the Killjoy to see.

"Level eight, do you think?" Korse suggested.

Party's eyes widened.

_'Shit.'_

_'Not again.'_

The exterminator, a frown on his face, reached for Party's arm. Party batted his hand away.

"Wait!" He snapped. "Just stop!"

Korse titled his head. "You don't want the drug, rebel? Then just tell me your full name. It's that simple."

Party cringed. "You know my name."

The older man shook his head. "Wrong answer," he repeated, and raised the shooter again.

"Please," Party was desperate. "Don't stick any more of that shit into me. I can't..."

Korse shrugged. "Then tell me your _name!"_

"I can't... please!"

" _You're name!"_

Party hesitated again. He was shaking all over. He knew he couldn't take another dose of agony but, if he gave in, it was all over. For all of them.

"No," he whispered.

Korse gave an exasperated sigh. "As you wish," He replied, and held the shooter against Party's arm, his finger on the trigger.

_"Gerard Way!_ " Party blurted out, when he felt the metal touch his arm. Immediately, his cheeks burned, and he averted his eyes, gazing down at the ground.

Korse paused. He stared down at his foe, feeling euphoric.

_He had won._

"Say it again," he ordered. "And look at me this time."

Party grimaced. Steadying himself, he swallowed, and then gazed up at the Exterminator.

"My name is Gerard Way," he whispered, knowing he had just given in. He had let them all down.

Korse nodded. "Good boy. Now, tell me, Gerard," he asked, as he glared down at the younger man, "what of Party Poison?"

_'No more fighting. So tired. It's over. Just need to rest.'_

_'Just let me sleep.'_

Gerard's eyes were cold and lifeless, drained of emotion, as he stated the words he knew Korse wanted to hear. "Party Poison... is dead."

Korse's face broke out into a huge smile. "Well done, Gerard." He ruffled the other man's hair, enjoying how the other man recoiled away from him. "Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

Party had no reply.

Korse stepped away from his defeated enemy, turned his back on him and pressed a button on his wrist communicator.

"Drac?" He stated.

" _Yes sir?_ " The voice was low, gravelly.

"Is everything in order?"

" _Yes, Sir, your car is ready. Plus, the towners are gathered and we are in the process of giving out the mind-altering drugs, as instructed._ "

"Good. The prisoner has been prepared but I would not bet against him causing me more trouble before our arrival in the city. Send a squad back in here. He will need to be restrained for the journey."

" _At once, Sir._ "

Korse disconnected the call.

He looked back over at Gerard and saw that the man was leaning against the wall, both hands holding onto it for support. As Korse took a step towards him, he saw how the once proud Killjoy cringed. And that was when Korse saw, despite the man's best efforts to hide from him, that he had not been able to prevent the tears any longer, and they were now cascading down his cheeks. Seeing Korse's satisfied smirk, Party bowed his head in shame.

Korse could have punched the air in triumph.

Instead, he turned away from his captive, leaving him crumpled and humiliated in the corner, his lower body exposed. He heard a gasp of pain and he smiled. The rebel had discovered, to his painful cost, that he did not even have the strength to reach down and pull up his own pants. Korse turned and eyed him, and Party returned the look. Korse smiled, shook his head and looked away again, not even moving to assist him. Let him stay naked and shamed. Let him plead if he wanted help. It suited Korse. The exterminator walked on, towards where the exit had once been, gazing out at the vast and empty space beyond the blasted door. He clasped his hands behind his back, closed his eyes, and breathed in the thick, dusty air.

All was right again in the world.

Party Poison was finished. And, soon enough, the rest of the Killjoys would share his fate. At their own leader's hand.

He smiled evilly.

_Job done._

The two Draculoids that had been waiting outside the building walked towards him, plus a third that had joined them. The newcomer inclined his head towards Korse, who simply gestured impatiently towards the pathetic figure huddled in the corner, trying, unsuccessfully, to shield his nakedness from their eyes. When the first Drac saw Party, he stopped. After staring at the Killjoy for a few seconds, looking him up and down, his hand tightened on his ray gun, and the Drac glanced towards Korse, as if he was waiting for instructions.

"Restrain the prisoner," Korse commanded, impatiently. "And take him to the car."

The Drac rushed to obey. He stopped dead in front of Party, gazing down upon the Killjoy with an unreadable expression, as if he was unsure whether to proceed.

"Now!" Korse barked.

The Drac gestured to Party. "Stand up," he ordered. His voice was distorted, weak.

Party looked up wearily. He met the gaze of the minion now giving him orders. He tried to obey, but his legs were so shaky, they just wouldn't support him.

"Stand!" The second Drac boomed, prodding the prisoner with its ray gun.

"I can't," Party moaned, hiding his face. "Hurts..." He cringed inwardly, ashamed of his own weakness. Just how much degradation was he supposed to take?

The second Drac reached out, grabbing hold of Party's left arm and dragging him unceremoniously to his feet. He managed to grip Party on his still very painful burn and the rebel cried out loudly.

The first Drac stepped forward, wrenching Party away from his colleague, and his painful grip. "Put your arms behind your back and cross them at the wrist," the first Drac snapped to Poison. Party did not try to resist. He complied and waited quietly as the restraining handcuffs were locked in place.

The Drac only placed a hand on his back and pushed him in the direction of the exit, he did not attempt to manhandle him, much to Party's continuous astonishment. The Drac then turned back to Korse.

"Ready, Sir."

"Good," Korse replied. "We have to leave now," he snapped impatiently, and gestured to the door. "Bring him." The second Drac gripped Party and forced him forward. Party obeyed, keeping his head bowed, and limped towards Korse.

Suddenly, they had to pause again as the first Drac had pushed aside the second, and then dropped down to his knees behind Party to pull up the young man's pants, giving him back his modesty.

Party stared at him. A caring Drac? What the fuck?

Korse looked amused. "Touching," he mocked. "Some of you Scarecrows need to toughen up." He then walked out of the building. There was an uncomfortable silence as Party and the Drac, or Scarecrow, as Korse had described him, stared at one another. Finally, it was the second Drac who spoke up. "Move."

Falling into place behind Korse, the group walked out of the gaping hole that had once been a doorway, to find that there were two more Dracs waiting outside, clearly there to escort the prisoner to the waiting transport. Other than the six of them, there was no other life about. It was all so quiet.

Too quiet. For Party, it felt like his funeral - probably because it was.

Party knew if they got him to that car, his life was over. But what could he do?

There were five of them and one of him.

He was beaten, broken. Finished.

There was no escape.

The sound of Korse's communicator bursting into life brought them all to a stop. Korse swore under his breath, but moved to answer the call.

He was greeted by the sounds of complete chaos. There was no mistaking the shouting and noisy beams from the ray guns. There was a battle being fought somewhere, and it was close-by.

"Report!" He yelled.

" _Warning! We are under attack! Rebels are everywhere. We are surrounded. Send reinforcements... So many of them..._ "

There was the sound of ray gun blasts, screams and then – nothing.

Korse paled. He lowered his communicator and then turned to stare at Party, who had not reacted at all.

"What is happening?" Korse demanded of him. His tone was calm, but his eyes were flashing. "Why are my men under attack?"

"I don't know." Poison replied.

Korse snarled as he struck Party hard across the face. The rebel let out a weakened cry and couldn't prevent himself from falling to his knees. He had already taken far too much punishment than he could stand that day. His body simply refused to deal with anymore. He knelt there, and tried to control his breathing. Korse glared down at him. "You told me they had orders to leave here and not return."

"They did."

"Don't lie to me, Gerard. I warned you what would happen." He reached into his jacket pocket. Party instantly began to cower.

_'Oh God, not again. I can't take it'._

"No," he moaned, knowing full well what was coming. "Please."

Korse paused, regarding him closely. "Please, _what?"_

Party hesitated. His cheeks burned.

The Dracs were standing close by, watching intently.

Except for one. One was looking in the opposite direction. Korse was too preoccupied with Party to notice.

"Well?" Korse urged him, a cruel smile on his lips.

"Please, Sir." Party answered, staring down at the rocks near his feet. He wanted the ground to swallow him up. "Please don't hurt me again."

"That's better." Korse taunted. He left the shooter where it was, turning to look instead towards the waiting car. "It seems you were wrong to doubt your friends. Shame, for you, that they are leaving it all too late." He smiled. "I had more faith in them than you did, Killjoy. I knew they would never abandon one of their own."

" _Well good for you, you mother fucking piece of shit."_

Silence fell. Korse froze, but didn't respond. The Drac that had spoken moved forward, stepping closer to Party.

They gazed at each other.

The Drac smiled. Party blinked, feeling a hint of recognition. He shook his head dumbly.

_Couldn't be._

And then the Drac reverted his attention to the stunned Korse.

"What do you want, you bastard? A fucking medal?"

The Exterminator turned back round slowly. It had taken him some seconds to realise that it was not Party Poison that had dared to speak, but one of his own Dracs, and he clearly could not comprehenend that fact. "What did you say to me?"

Korse then looked on, too stunned to move, as the traitor pointed his gun straight at his own boss.

"You heard me." A smirk. "Fucker."

As Korse tried to find the words to respond to this Drac who had clearly taken leave of its senses, the minion suddenly tore off his mask, and threw it onto the ground. And then spat on it.

Korse narrowed his eyes.

_Damned Killjoy scum._

The rebel who evidently had a death wish then turned to look again at Party, though he continued to cover Korse with his gun. Party was gazing back at him as if he was some kind of hallucination.

Party Poison could clearly not believe his eyes.

"Frankie..."

Ghoul trembled, trying to contain his emotions. "It's gonna be okay, Party." He whispered. "I'm here." His eyes blazed as he looked towards Korse again. " _He_ is never going to touch you again."

Korse glared. "I'm impressed," he spat. "Very clever. I don't know how you managed this, and I don't care. Your rescue effort was pointless. Nothing will be okay, _certainly_ not for you." He turned to the other Dracs, whom he assumed were waiting for his instructions.

"Kill this rebel!"

Korse's disbelief only grew by what happened next. Two of his Dracs opened fire – but on their comrades. The robots dropped to the ground without so much as a gasp, and the remaining two then turned and faced Korse, both covering him with their weapons.

" _What the HELL are you doing?_ " He yelled.

The two fellow traitors were glaring daggers at him. They copied the actions of the first Drac, ripping off their masks and throwing them away, revealing themselves as the two final members of the Killjoy gang – Kobra Kid and Jet Star.

All three Killjoys moved to stand side by side, in a formation. They had been trained well. And they all also looked as mad as hell.

The younger – Kobra – was staring at Poison. He was attempting to hide his emotions as he took in his brother's shocking state, and the various injuries on show.

"Gerard?" He whispered.

Party's eyes flickered to Kobra and the younger man saw, to his despair, the emptiness and defeat in that once defiant gaze, before Party quickly looked away once more.

Kobra trembled slightly, and then turned and regarded Korse with complete hatred.

"What have you done to my brother?" He hissed.

Korse couldn't resist giving Kobra a taunting smile as he glanced sideways at Party.

"Everything," he drawled. "And more."

"Bastard." Kobra snarled, taking a step toward the smug man.

"Steady Mikey," Jet Star whispered, pulling his young friend back.

Korse looked from one man to the next. He saw that all three Killjoys were conflicted by their desire to blast him where he stood, but also to get to, and aid, their injured comrade. He knew he had one opportunity, and Korse did not hesitate. He sprang forward, grabbing Party by the scruff of his neck, holding him firmly, and then placing his ray gun against the exhausted man's head.

Two of the Killjoys went to surge forward but they were pushed to one side by the third. Korse noted this. The one known as Fun Ghoul was clearly wiser than the others. Which made him the first target.

"Stay back." Korse warned all of them. "Or I _will_ kill him."

Kobra looked about ready to break down. "No-" He began, but Jet Star placed a warning hand on his shoulder, silencing him.

Ghoul took control. He glared at the red-faced Korse.

"Let him the fuck go, right now," he stated clearly. "First and only warning."

Korse chuckled. "I don't think so. I'm going to walk to that car over there. Try to stop me, and I will blow your precious Party Poison's brains out."

"You think that's going to happen?" Frank said softly. His voice was so low, almost pleasant, but his eyes showed his true emotions, and all the hate he felt for the man he now addressed. "You're the one outnumbered now, cocksucker. You think I'm gonna let you just walk away from here, after what you've done to my best friend?" He stepped closer. "Think again, you sick fuck. The only question here is whether you get to die quickly, or very, very slowly." He smirked. "I know which I'd prefer."

He raised his gun, but Korse was faster. He spun round, and fired a shot toward Kobra and Jet, who instinctively dived out of the way. In the confusion, Korse shoved Poison towards Ghoul, who instantly tried to catch the other man and soften his fall, but that left the dark haired Killjoy unprotected.

There was a warning shout from Jet. Still holding Party, Ghoul looked toward Korse in alarm.

The Exterminator smirked, aimed his weapon at Ghoul, and his finger tightened on the trigger.

Suddenly, an explosion blasted through the air, deafening all of them and sending each and every person, man and Drac alike, in that area flying through the air, and crashing to the ground in a muddled heap.

Korse recovered first, coughing and looking through the smoke for Fun Ghoul. The Exterminator had managed to keep hold of his ray gun. He spotted Ghoul finally, still on the ground, dazed and trying to clear his head.

And calling out for his precious Gerard.

With a snarl, Korse raised his weapon and aimed it again directly at the Killjoy he saw as the main threat. This time, he would finish him.

He was surprised to hear yet another unknown voice suddenly filling the air, shouting a warning.

_"Killjoys! Get down!"_

And then, all Hell broke loose.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Ghoul was up on his feet, moving slowly, his legs shaking beneath him.

_"Gerard!"_

He leaned over suddenly, gasping for breath, holding his stomach for support. It had taken him some painful seconds to grasp what had actually happened in those chaotic few moments. One moment, he'd had Poison in his arms, holding him, so pleased just to be able to _touch_ him again, and then he had seen that asshole Korse only a few feet away from where they were crouched. The bastard had aimed his ray gun carefully at them, and Ghoul had realised, with total clarity, that he was about to die. He'd stared defiantly at Korse, breathing hard, and waited for the man to pull the trigger that would put an end to his life, but the deathly glow never came. Because in that next second, the whole world exploded.

The noise had deafened him, the force of the blast sent him flying backwards. He had landed awkwardly, grunted in discomfort and laid there, dazed and confused, wondered what the Hell was going on, and what fate had befallen his friends.

He had stumbled to his feet, groped for the gun that had fallen at his side, and had instantly begun to call out for Poison. He'd lost his hold on the other man when they had been thrown by the explosion. He looked around and tried to see the cause of the blast. Ghoul was stunned to see that Korse's car - or what was left for it - was on fire. Large flames billowed out from the vehicle, where the Dracs inside had waited. Ghoul didn't understand.

And now, here he was, lost, confused and suddenly alone. Ghoul staggered a few more steps, still shouting, still looking, trying to see through the thick, smoky haze. He paused when he spotted a figure in the distance, but was unable to focus on him. He stepped forward, and looked hard, trying to see who was watching him.

"Gerard, is that you? Come toward me!"

The figure stiffened but remained silent. Then, he slowly raised his gun to aim it directly at Frank's chest.

_Shit._

Fucking Korse.

Frank, already knowing Korse had the advantage over him, moved to raise his own blaster; he would be damned if he wasn't going to make a fucking fight of it. He owed that to his fellow Killjoys, and, most importantly, to Gerard. In his mind's eye, he saw Gerard lying there, in that room, beaten, defeated. He knew he would never be able to wipe that image from his mind, or what he assumed had gone on before he had entered. It didn't take too much imagination, after taking in Gerard's humiliating state. He had been naked from the waist down, bruised, bloodied, and most telling of all, had behaved like a broken man. That fire that had burned so brightly within Party Poison, and had spread to them all, had disappeared. No, there was no doubt as to what Gerard Way had been subjected to, and now Korse was going to pay. Ghoul tightened his hold on his blaster. The bastard deserved to die. Even if the Killjoy lost his own life in the process, he was going to take the sick fuck to hell with him.

"Come on!" Ghoul shouted, fist clenched around his gun "What are you waiting for?"

Korse chuckled.

Ghoul couldn't stand it. He moved forward. He knew that even if he had been out of range of Korse's death ray, he wasn't anymore, and he didn't care.

" _You fucking bastard! You sick, perverted psycho - I'll kill you!"_

He could have sworn, even through the thick cloud of smoke, that he could see Korse smirk.

And then, a voice filled the area, cut through the smoke. An unexpected sound, but a very familiar, and welcome, one.

_"Killjoys! Get down!"_

Ghoul, taken by surprise, swung round in the direction of the new voice. With a quick glance over his shoulder, he saw that Korse had done the same, his own gun quivering uncertainly in his grip. Ghoul wasn't surprised to see the Exterminator was staring, wide-eyed, at the sight before him; he himself was in shock. Doctor Death Defying, backed up by a small group of rebels, now ran towards them, a torch lighting up his way through the smoke, his gun aimed straight at Korse. The Exterminator snarled, and managed to dive out of the way just in time, the first blast sent at him missing by inches. Defying's eyes blazed as he took aim, determined to finish the job, but then, he paused. Then real chaos descended.

Drac and rebel alike appeared from all directions, charged out of alleyways and back passages, and out of the deserted and ruined buildings. Within moments, the place was a war zone. Defying looked again for Korse, but the man had vanished.

"Shit!" He hissed, annoyed with himself. But then, he turned to look at Fun Ghoul who was gazing at the scene around him, clearly stunned. Death Defying, Korse now forgotten, raced straight up to his friend, and pulled Ghoul to one side, out of the way of a Drac's wayward shot.

"Ghoul," the Doctor urged him. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Frank replied breathlessly, and clutched the Doctor's shoulders for support. He could barely hear the pirate DJ over the sound of close by gun fire and screams. "Have you seen the others?"

"They're fine," Defying told him, quickly. He cringed as a shot whipped past his ear, and pulled Ghoul along with him again. They couldn't stay still, it was just madness there now. "We've gotta get you all out of here. This place is a death trap."

"Wait," Ghoul snapped, trying to free himself. "Korse is here. We have to find him." He coughed, his voice hoarse. "I've gotta kill him..."

Death shook his head. "It's way too crazy, buddy. This ain't the time. I came here to get you guys out, now all of us are leaving here _together."_ He then looked around, his eyes moving from one skirmish to the next, noting that his rebels were doing a good job at keeping the Dracs at bay. For the time being, at least. It was not a good idea to stand still in one spot for to long though; they did not want to attract any Drac attention. "Korse is not important right now."

"NO!" Ghoul shouted, not accepting that. He couldn't. "You don't understand. We'll never get another chance like this. You don't know what he did to Gerard. We have to-"

There was another explosion behind them, cutting him off. The noise made his ears ring. He looked in the direction of the source.

Ghoul could see small groups of rebels carrying bazooka guns, aiming them at Dracs in range.

_'So, that's how Korse's car was destroyed... He's stuck here now'._

Ghoul coughed, the dust clouding the air getting into his throat and choking him. He glanced behind him, and saw yet more smoke clearing to reveal a dead troupe of Dracs, who had evidently been closing in on the Doctor and himself. He knew how – Korse was still there, still directing his troops. He had his communicator, he was still in charge. And evidently not beaten. But he was stuck at that moment, no chance of escape for him or his Dracs, and the Killjoys may never have a better chance to rid the world of the bastard, or to make him pay for what he did to Party Poison. They couldn't just blow it. Not now.

Ghoul took a determined step away from Defying, back toward where he had last seen Korse, but he was once more restrained, and pulled back.

"He's gone!" The Doctor snapped. "Leave it!"

"Where the fuck did he go?" Ghoul demanded, and tried to pull away from the Doctor's bruising hold.

"Forget him."

"After what he fucking did to Gerard?" Ghoul's fists were clenched. "I don't think so. You didn't see what-"

"Look around you, Ghoul!" Defying actually shook the younger man in frustration, yelling in his face. "This place is a war zone. More Dracs are dropping on us all the time. They're coming from somewhere, We have no idea where, and they are not going to stop. And we can't even hold these ones. We are all going to be overrun if we don't get out now."

Ghoul didn't want to hear his words.

"I owe it to him..."

"You owe it to all these people, these men and women who _volunteered_ to risk their lives today for Party Poison. They wanted to save him from that sadist. You need to think about _him_ now!"

Ghoul rounded on him angrily.

"Who do you think I'm thinking about?"

"I _know_ you are thinking about Korse!" Defying jerked his head behind him, and what Fun Ghoul saw made his blood run cold. A very distressed looking Kobra Kid leaned over the broken form of his older brother, trying to drag him up. But Poison was not responding to Kobra's efforts, or to his cries. He was just slumped over, cowering, his arms placed over his head for protection. "Look at him, Ghoul." Death hissed. "Do you see now? Tell me, Frank. Doesn't he matter more than Korse?"

The agony coursed through Fun Ghoul as he took in Party Poison's terrible condition. Defying was right; he had been so preoccupied with Korse, Ghoul hadn't even noticed that Poison or Kobra had been so close by.

"He tortured him, Doc." Ghoul whispered to Death. He felt sick, unable to look away from Party. "Even worse than that, I think Korse-" He broke off, unable to finish the sentence. He could hardly even bring himself to _think_ the word.

_Rape. My boyfriend was raped._

He steadied himself before continuing.

"He fucking _broke_ him, Death. Party Poison was fucking _undefeatable_ , and _look what he did to him..."_

"Then help him." Death continued, more kindly. "He _needs_ you, Frank."

Ghoul closed his eyes for a second, and tried to control the over powering emotion building deep inside him, that threatened to consume him. He then took a deep breath, glanced at the Doctor once more, and nodded to him.

"Good." Defying noted, and then gestured for Ghoul to fall in beside him. The two men moved quickly, side by side, dodging stray blasts as they went to where Kobra and Party were stranded. Both men dropped to their knees beside their comrades. It was good to be out of the wind, free of that dust cloud. The battles still raged on, only a short distance away. Eventually, the Dracs would descend on them too. There was no more time to waste.

Kobra, stunned by the sudden interruption, aimed his gun at once, but then froze as he stared at Defying with wide, disbelieving eyes. Gratitude swept across his face.

"Thank God you're here," Kobra breathed. "I thought we were pinned down. I couldn't see what the fuck was going on, and Poison is in a bad way." He stood up straight, and released his hold on Poison reluctantly. "Doc, you have to help me with him. He's in agony, hasn't stopped trembling since I got him clear."

The Doctor regarded Poison carefully, taking in the obvious pain the young man was in, and his barely concealed anger increased.

"We are going to need to be gentle with him-" he began, but Ghoul, upset and angry, and in no mood to pussy-foot around, grabbed Party's arm and attempted to drag the other man to his feet. He ignored Kobra and Death's angered shouts.

He just needed to get Gerard the hell out of there.

"Come on, Poison," Ghoul growled. "It's time to go."

Party's terrified reaction was immediate.

"NO! Get away from me!" He whimpered, and scrambled clear, as if Fun Ghoul had attacked him.

Stunned, Ghoul loosened his grip on Party abruptly. The other man let out a low sob as he, shaking like a leaf, wrenched his captured arm out of Ghoul's grasp. There was no recollection whatsoever in his expression as he stared fearfully at the other Killjoy.

"Please," Party wailed, and attempted and failed to scuffle backwards. Ghoul could tell the other man's injuries were severe. And the way he was now holding his ribs was another concern. "No more," Poison moaned. "Just stop." 

Ghoul could actually _feel_ his heart breaking. He had never seen anything so devastating in his life. He reached out again for his once defiant leader, desperate to get through to him.

"Party, it's okay." He tried to reassure, already knowing it was useless. "No one is gonna hurt you now. I need you to look at me."

Poison shook his head desperately. "N-not my n-name..." He stammered. "I t-told you..."

"What?"

Party held a shaky hand up. Ghoul realised, to his dismay, that Gerard was trying to ward off the evil man that he believed was still standing over him. Because Korse was all he could see. "I _told_ you, remember?" The poor man moaned. "I told you my name was Gerard Way. _I did what you asked._ Please don't hurt me again, Korse. I can't take..." He didn't finish his sentence.

He didn't need to. Frank knew only too well what he was going to say.

Gerard was pleading with his imaginary version of Korse, begging him not to rape him again. He was fucking _pleading_ with him.

Ghoul could feel the rage threatening to engulf him.

_The bastard was going to suffer for this._

He would find Korse and he would make him pay. The evil cocksucker was going to die. One way or another. He would fucking _burn_ , and Frank would be there to watch.

"Gerard," Ghoul whispered softly, trying again. "It's me, Frank. Look at me, buddy. You're safe."

At those words, Party looked up, and stared at Ghoul, disbelief in his gaze.

"Frankie?" He mumbled. He reached out, as if he wanted to touch his friend, to prove to himself that he was really there. But then, just as his fingers almost brushed Frank's face, his hand dropped and he sighed.

"Can't be you..."

Frank frowned. Poison needed to be convinced.

_Fine._

"Feel," he said, and pinched Gerard's forearm, hard.

Gerard yelped, and gaped down at his sore arm in wonderment. Then, with a weary moan, he closed his eyes. "It's all a trick. Korse has done something else to my mind. More drugs. He's making me see you. I said your name, when he did _that_ to me. He knows about us, Frank. You're not here... You can't be."

Frank's heart hammered in his chest.

"What is he talking about?" Kobra asked. "Knows about who? And what did Korse do?"

Ghoul and Defying exchanged worried glances.

So, the Doctor suspected too.

Ghoul flinched. He knew what "that" meant.

_His pants round his ankles. Scared to even be touched. Broken, compliant. A shell of his former self._

Ghoul screwed his eyes up tight. Of course he knew. He wasn't an idiot. He had suspected from the moment he had entered that godforsaken room. But to have his fears confirmed to him...

Frank wanted to be sick.

_'I'll kill the bastard myself. With my own bare hands.'_

"Korse is gone, Gee." Frank told him, his voice breaking. He was as surprised as Kobra and the Doc clearly were to suddenly use Gerard's long-forgotten pet name. "I'm with you, and I'm not gonna leave you." His eyes narrowed. "He's _never_ going to touch you again, Gerard. I swear to you and to God." He offered his hand. "Let's get you outta here right now. Gracie is back there, waiting for you. She's desperate to see you. Don't wanna keep a lady waiting now, do ya?"

Party quickly threw another weary glance at Frank, and then raised a defeated hand. "Go away," he muttered. "Frank left me here so you can't be him. This is a dream. I need to sleep, so just leave me alone." He closed his eyes again, and turned his head away. "Frank's not here..."

The conversation was over.

Ghoul, defeated, reached out and gently stroked Poison's hair. He froze, his hand in mid air, as Gerard actually flinched violently at his touch. The older man was still trembling uncontrollably, and his low, despairing moans confirmed that he was still in great pain. Ghoul moved back then, and forced his gaze away from the exhausted and shell-shocked Poison, glared over at Doctor Defying instead.

"What the fuck is wrong with him?" He stormed. "Why can't he stop shaking?"

"He's been like this since those explosions went off," Kobra threw in, and looked at Defying. "When you and your people arrived, I grabbed him, got those cuffs off of him, and managed to pull him clear of Korse, but then the Dracs attacked from all sides, and a bazooka blast flashed right by us, blowing Korse's car to bits, and Gerard just went to fucking pieces. He's terrified." He wiped the tears out of his eyes angrily. "He acts like none of this is even real. Not me, you guys, the battle, any of it. He thinks Korse is playing with him. You heard him! He won't answer to anything but "Gerard" either." He eyed Frank with dismay. "What did that evil fucker do to him?"

Frank shook his head desperately. "I don't know, Mikey."

What else was he supposed to say?

He thought back to that tiny room. Korse's smirk. Gerard's defeated expression and fear. His insides churned. He pushed the image to the back of his mind once more, still praying that somehow the explanation was not how he had perceived it. Deep down, he knew it was a futile prayer.

At least he had saved Mikey that sight. He would always be grateful he had told the younger Way to remain outside. He didn't want to imagine how Kobra would have reacted if he'd seen the extent of his brother's suffering.

"Party Poison." Doctor Death was beside Party now, speaking to him softly, and gently coaxing the young man into looking up at him. He pulled open Poison's wide and frightened eyes to look into them clearly. He frowned. "I think I know," he muttered.

Ghoul cringed. "What?" he asked.

"Typical Better Living bullshit." Death slammed his fist into the ground. "Korse has used drugs on him, and strong shit at that. Very painful too. I'm not surprised Poison doesn't know where he is." He frowned. "He's lucky to be alive," he said softly, before adding, more to himself, "They obviously needed him."

"What effect-" Fun Ghoul began, but Defying silenced him with a wave of his hand.

"I don't know anything else, Ghoul. Not without subjecting him to more painful tests to find out what crap that asshole injected him with." He ran his fingers over the puncture wounds in Gerard's arm. "Shooter darts, I'm guessing." He lifted Gerard's shirt carefully, and swore under his breath when he saw the severity of the bruises. "He's been badly beaten, battered even. He's in one hell of a lot of pain. I can't tell the full scale of his injuries though. We need to get him some proper help, and quickly."

Suddenly, a desperate scream cut through them all.

" _Doctor Death Defying! There's too many of them!"_

The Doctor looked up sharply. Yet more Dracs had arrived on the scene and the rebels were becoming vastly outnumbered. They were calling to their leader for his advice and assistance, and Defying had to answer. And the Killjoys needed to get themselves moving.

"Where's Ray?" Frank suddenly demanded of Kobra. "Why isn't he with you?"

"He ran off to help the others," Kobra replied, his voice low, "He told me to stay with Gerard..." his words trailed off.

"He gave you good advice, son." Defying interjected. "Poison is a sitting duck right now. Someone needs to look after him. Right it should be you, Kobra. No one knows him or can care for him like his own brother."

Frank cringed. He looked down at the ground, his eyes screwed tightly shut. Neither of his companions noticed his agony, nor the fact that he reached out, and took hold of Gerard's hand.

He glanced down, heartened, when Gerard squeezed his fingers back in response.

Defying got to his feet abruptly. He gestured for Kobra to take his place and hold his brother close, not only to keep the injured man warm, but also to offer some much needed comfort. The Doctor pulled out his own communicator, pressed a button, and yelled into the device:

"Summer! I need you. Get that car over here. Lock in on my signal. Now, got it?"

As he cancelled the call, he turned quickly back to the Killjoys.

"Right, help is on the way. Kobra, you can move your brother on your own, can't you?"

Kobra nodded, his attention still focused on Party, who had now wrapped his arms around his chest and was rocking back and forth.

"He's hurting so bad," the younger brother murmured. He looked up at Defying with pleading eyes. "Please Doc, can you give him something? Just a painkiller?"

Defying grimaced. "I'm sorry." He replied. "I got no way of knowing what shit Korse was pumping into him, or how much. If I give him something, there's a good chance he might OD and his body couldn't cope with that. It's too much of a risk."

Kobra looked as if he was going to argue, still upset by his brother's obvious agony, but a warning look from the Doctor convinced him against it.

"We have to get him away from here," Defying continued, "One of my people is on her way, in your Trans AM. She'll pick the two of you up and then get the hell out. Party Poison is what matters here. He needs treatment and care back at the base. We have to get him there as soon as possible, or he isn't going to make it. Do you understand?"

Defying watched as Kobra's face reddened in obvious anger and he held his brother closer as he spat in response:. "Of course I fucking do!"

There was an uncomfortable moment of silence before Kobra then seemed to regret his words and he mumbled an apology. Doctor Death gave the young man a grim smile. "Don't worry about anything. Just look after him, Kid."

Apparently deaf to their small altercation, Ghoul was still digesting Doctor Death's earlier words. He stepped forward and addressed his leader: "Doc, sorry but did you say, the two of them?"

Defying glanced up, and gave Ghoul a curious look.

"Yeah, that's right, Ghoul, I did. I need you to help me round up everyone else and get them all out of this fucking hell-hole. You've got a cool head on your shoulders, boy." He glanced at Party Poison. "He was right about you. You are good. And you're what I need right now." He patted Ghoul on the shoulder, oblivious to the turmoil the younger man was now experiencing. "Let's go."

Ghoul hesitated for a second before he replied, and new determination set in on his face. "If it's okay with you, Doc, I'd prefer to stay with Party Poison." He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Kobra might need my help-"

"It's not okay with me, Ghoul;" came the cold, rather disappointed-sounding reply. "I gave you your orders. Do as I say."

"But Gerard-"

"Kobra Kid will protect Gerard. He is the man's brother. Are you gonna tell me you care more about this guy than his own kid brother?"

Frank had no reply to that. He was stuck. All he wanted to do was shout out, to the whole fucking world; " _Yeah, I care more! I fucking love him. He means more to me than anyone else on this whole fucked up planet!"_ But he couldn't. He had sworn to Party that they would keep their relationship a secret, a secret from Doctor Death and the Killjoys, and everybody else. He didn't want to betray his lover's wishes now, not after coming so close to losing him completely. And he knew what Party Poison would want and expect him to do, simply follow Death's instructions to the letter, and get Kobra, Jet and anybody else he could out of that hell.

So, with a sigh, he shook his head, and cast his eyes down on the ground.

"No. No one cares more than Kobra."

"Good," Defying retorted, still clearly unimpressed with what he supposed was a cowardly attitude on Fun Ghoul's part. "Then lets get fucking moving, shall we?"

And with one last nod to Kobra, Defying moved, ray gun drawn, and headed back into battle. Frank, still in two minds as to whether he could leave Poison behind, but already knowing he had no other choice, stopped beside Kobra Kid. He clasped his shoulder, and whispered in his ear: "You look after him, Mikey."

The younger man nodded. "Go," he managed. "Just get Ray out of there, Frank."

And then, Fun Ghoul was running as fast as he was able, blasting any Drac at whom he could get a clear aim.

Kobra watched him go, dread building inside of him, and then turned his attention back to his brother.

He placed his arms around the trembling Party Poison and pulled him closer, burying his face in the other man's hair. Kobra knew he had to be strong, knew it was up to him now to protect Poison and keep him safe. He would not let him down again.

Kobra leaned back slightly when he heard Party let out a quiet moan. He saw that his brother had opened his eyes and blinked repeatedly, gazing at him with some confusion.

" _Mikey?"_ Gerard whispered.

Kobra swallowed hard, and bit down on his lip, desperate to stop the tears from leaking out of his eyes. He would not be weak. He could get through this.

"You're gonna be okay, Gerard." He promised. "We're gonna get you out of here, and everything is gonna be fine."

"Where are the others?"

Kobra frowned. Did Gerard have no memory of seeing and talking to Frank and Defying only a few moments ago?

How was he supposed to deal with this?

"I'm going to look after you, Gee." Kobra swore to him. Finally, the tears started to flow as he hugged Gerard to him tightly. "I'm so sorry," he sobbed. "I shouldn't have left you there. This is all my fucking fault!" He rocked Gerard gently.

Gerard tightened his own hold on his brother's arm. "Hurts, Mikey;" He whimpered. "So sore..."

Kobra did not know what to say or do. He knew Gerard was in a very large amount of pain but there was nothing he could do to relieve that agony, which made Kobra feel so helpless. How was he supposed to just wait there and watch his brother suffer? All he could do was hold him and try to comfort him. Kobra just prayed that it was enough.

Even more angered by his own pathetic display and his complete inability to be able to aid his brother, he looked up abruptly and screamed, into the smoke that was still surrounding them. Kobra felt choked by it. In desperate, furious tones, he yelled, "Where the fucking hell is that car!"

And then, as if on cue, a vehicle was suddenly roaring towards them. The Dracs in the vicinity swivelled round to open fire on the car but the blasts bounced harmlessly off the bodywork. As it came ever close, Kobra could see that it wasn't just any car, it was _their_ car, the Trans AM, just as Doctor Death had promised. Mikey released his hold on his brother temporarily to run forward and wave him arms madly. The driver spotted him instantly, and headed straight towards them. The car came to a halt a few feet away, the door swung open and a lean figure hurried out. Removing her mask, she revealed herself to be a young woman with long wavy blond hair and a very young-looking face. She glanced from Kobra Kid to Party Poison and then back again, and then ran forward, her youthful face lined with concern.

She took a nervous look over her shoulder at the fight which raged in the distance, before she returned her attention to the two Killjoys watching her.

She inclined her head in way of greeting.

"Are you Kobra Kid?" She demanded, her hand hovering near her blaster.

"Yes."

She nodded, clearly relieved. "Good. Doctor D asked me to find you. I'm..."

Kobra was not in the mood for pleasantries. "Look, don't take this badly okay, but I have no idea who you are, and, to be honest, I don't actually care." He gestured towards the prone form of Poison. "Help me get my brother into the car. He's hurt."

"What happened to-"

"No fucking time!" He thundered. _"Help me!"_

The woman didn't wait a second longer. She rushed to Kobra's side, looping Party's right arm around her shoulder, and aided Kobra in lifting him. It was awkward though, he felt like a dead weight. "The name's Summer," she managed, breathing hard as she struggled with Party. "It's an honor to meet the infamous Killjoys. Just thought I'd mention that."

Kobra couldn't help but offer her a grim smile. "Thanks. Autographs later though, yeah?"

Summer chuckled. "I'm new," she told him. "Three weeks ago, Doctor Death saved my life during a Better Living raid on my building. He took me out of the city and into the desert. Earlier today, he asked me to come and save yours in return. How could I refuse the chance to meet you, and get to drive your car? Stuff of legend, you guys are! I've heard stories about Party Poison and the Killjoys for months, and I'd obviously seen your wanted posters everywhere, I just had to-"

"No offense, Summer?" Kobra interrupted. He stared at her incredulously. Was she for real? "But you talk way too fucking much."

Summer gave him a nervous look, saw the twinkle in Kobra's eye, and then grinned. "Everyone says so. Sorry, I'll shut up if I'm annoying you."

"No," he replied, softly. "I actually quite like it. Makes a change, you know?"

They struggled forward with Party a few more steps until he moaned weakly, and fell forward. Summer and Kobra only just managed to catch him before he hit the ground, his energy spent.

"Come on, Party," Kobra whispered. "We're nearly there." He looked around, concerned, relieved to note there was no sign of any unwanted activity. No Dracs, no Scarecrows, no Korse. He spotted an area of the battle, and was relieved to see Ghoul and Jet fighting back to back, a handful of Dracs lying dead at their feet. He pulled at Party's arm again. "You can't sleep there, pal. Gotta keep moving."

"Did Korse do this to him?" Summer suddenly asked, quietly.

Kobra frowned. "Yeah," he replied. "He injected him with fuck knows what and beat him to within an inch of his fucking life." He swallowed hard. "And I let it happen."

Summer blinked. "What do you mean?"

He didn't reply.

Summer hesitated, then reached out and touched his hand. "I know how you feel. I was made to watch as Korse killed my brother and..."

Kobra grimaced, tore his hand away and then fixed the girl with an angry look. "Will you just stop asking fucking questions already? I don't care about your brother, understand?"

She flushed, the hurt apparent on her face. She then nodded, and looked away from him quickly.

Kobra regretted his words instantly. She was just a kid. No matter how worried he was, there was no excuse for treating this girl like shit. She was there to help him, and Poison. Attacking her was not going to change a thing. He leaned towards her, holding Party closer to him, and managed a small smile in apology. "Look, I shouldn't have said... I'm sorry, okay?" He tentatively reached out and rubbed her back gently. "I'm an asshole sometimes, everyone says so..."

"Everyone including your brother?"

"Especially him."

"Just like mine then." Her face twitched as she fought to hold back her emotions. "I miss him."

He watched her for a moment. "What's your real name, Summer?"

She frowned. "We're told never to give out our..."

"I know," he interjected. "But I'm interested. And, in case you are too, I'm Mikey Way."

Her face broke out into a real smile then. Kobra couldn't help but notice that it lit up her face.

"I'm Alicia."

They shook hands, and held on to each other just a little bit longer than necessary.

Her eyes were drawn to the blood stains on his shirt.

"Are you hurt?"

He blinked, and then looked down. "Oh," he replied, hurriedly. "I cut myself on some glass earlier today. It's fine now. I'm fine." He frowned, gesturing to his brother. " _He's_ the one who needs help. We have to get moving," he urged, and grimaced as he tried to pull his brother up off of the ground. "We're out in the open here." He glanced down. "Come _on_ , Gerard. I need you to help us. Please."

Party Poison could only manage a low moan in response. Kobra was almost despairing.

Summer didn't know what to say. Their situation was not looking good.

Suddenly, both Summer and Kobra looked up sharply when they heard louder screams from the battle ground. Kobra's heart sank at the horrific sight of what was now playing out in the distance. Jet and Ghoul were clearly in trouble. They, Doctor Death, and the small party of rebels were still fighting on but had been pushed back by a larger group of Dracs, which had apparently appeared from nowhere and had managed to form a battle formation in front of them. They were advancing, ray guns blasting, cutting down men and women as they moved. Kobra knew what this meant. Their General was giving them orders, organising them. And they were winning.

Korse had to still be there. He'd be standing by somewhere, close to them, that smirk still planted on his sick face.

Kobra gritted his teeth. He would _not_ let Korse win this. And Jet and Ghoul needed his help now as well as Poison. So did Defying and Summer. Hell, every one of those people did. They would all be wiped out one by one if they didn't move soon. They had been there long enough. And now Kobra needed to act immediately, or it would be too late for all of them. He glanced down at Party, torn, unsure what to do for the best. Finally, Alicia made up his mind for him.

"Go," she whispered, and touched his hand. "Round up the rest of the rebels. Take my communicator, it's got a stronger signal than yours."

"I can't just leave Gerard."

"The other Killjoys and the Doc need you, and you know it."

"So does my brother." His voice broke. "I abandoned him before, it's my fault what happened to him. I can't let him down again. I won't."

Summer grasped his hand then, and squeezed tightly. "Let me protect him for you. I won't leave him, Kobra." She promised him. "I'll get him in the car, and safely back to base. You'll see him there. It will be fine." She leaned closer. "I won't let you down."

He very gently tucked her hair behind her right ear. "Thank you," he whispered. Then, he clutched Party's hand. "I'll see you back at base, Gee. I love you." And then, clearly so he didn't allow himself the opportunity to change his mind, he sped off, his gun at the ready. As Alicia watched in awe, he took down two Dracs within seconds, and was already yelling for the beaten and broken but still living rebels nearby to rise up and fight on. And they began to answer his call, getting up off the ground, running to join him, guns brandished. They would fight with him to the end.

That's what the Killjoys meant.

"Mikey Way," Summer muttered. "I should never have met you."

"Why is that?"

She looked down. Party Poison was gazing up at her. "You like my brother." He whispered, speaking quietly.

It was not a question.

Summer nodded. She actually felt awed. The face on the posters, the name from the stories, so often mentioned during the Doc's radio broadcasts. The name that people would only whisper to each other: _Party Poison_ , leader of the Fabulous Killjoys. And he was talking to her.

"How old are you?" He inquired.

She hesitated, not wanting to give out any more private information. Finally, she replied; "I'm twenty two."

"So young." he sighed. "Little Mikey, he was young once too. All gone now. Mikey's not young anymore. Not since I took him out of the City, out of his _life_ , and into oblivion." Gerard stared off into space, no longer addressing the agitated girl beside him. He spoke into the smoke, to the young man in his memory, lost forever. "I'm sorry I dragged you into this. It was a mistake." His eyes were cold, his voice detached. "You should have died back in that house with them, Mikey. At least you'd be free then too."

Summer stared at him.

What the fuck?

"Come on, Party Poison," she told him, playfully, acting as if she had not heard his defeated words. "What about all the stories I've heard about you? The feared leader of the Killjoys! I heard you were the toughest mother fucker in the Zones. Wanna start showing me some of that any time soon?"

Party laughed. Or tried to. All he managed was a croak. "Silly fairy tales told to impress naïve minds," he mumbled, and then wrenched his hand out of her grasp and cursed loudly in pain as he once more fell to his knees. He pushed her away from him, actually trying to thwart her efforts to drag him the extra few feet towards his car. "Party Poison isn't my name, by the way." He told her, through gritted teeth. “Not anymore. My name is Gerard Way."

"Whatever you say." She tugged at his hand. "Gerard Way is just fine by me. He was a hero to me once as well, come to think of it. Long time ago."

Gerard looked at her. "He was?"

"You bet," she threw back. "I'll call you Gerard, no problem. Hell, I'll call you 'shithead' if that's what you want. As long as you get the fuck up!"

"I'm not a hero." He actually then reached out for her, grabbed her hand and pulled her closer to him, so he could hiss in her ear. "You don't understand, do you? _Party Poison is a lie._ All of it was one big lie. Propaganda. There's no hope, no fight, no future. Not for you or for me." He closed his eyes. "He has lied to us all, Summer." He tightened his hold, hurting her. " _He lied to me._ "

Summer stared at him. There was no emotion in his voice at all. It was as if she was talking to an empty shell.

A Better Living Industries drone.

Maybe she was.

Maybe they were too late after all.

"Well," she retorted, carefully. "Whatever your name is, I'll give you some advice. You need to shut the fuck up and get a move on before you get us both killed, capiche?"

He smiled. There was no humour there, no genuine kindness. Only darkness and emptiness. Party Poison was not at home any more. But then, nor was Gerard Way, or not what she would have expected from the man with that name. The hero from her past. This was someone new. And that realisation made her insides freeze.

"I promised your brother," she pleaded with him. "Please, Gerard. Do this for him."

"No point," he whispered. "No point to any of it any more." He let go of her and she would have fallen had she not caught herself.

She shook her head wordlessly, not wanting to hear another word from him. She backed off slightly, the disappointment and helplessness coursing through her; this was not the Party Poison she had heard so much about. This was not the Gerard Way who had sung out to her, and moved her, so many years ago. This was not a man worth all the efforts that had been taken to save him. This was someone Korse had created. This was a broken man.

"What the hell happened to you?" Summer demanded, edging ever further away from him as she brought a shaky hand up to her forehead in disbelief.

She was to preoccupied, not aware of her surroundings.

She had been trained to stay alert. Her training had been a waste of effort.

_She didn't even hear him creeping up behind her._

She felt his breath on her neck first, and then the hard, cold nozzle of his ray gun pressed up against the back of her head.

And then, finally, he spoke, so softly: _"Me_."

She gasped.

_Korse._

She stared at Party Poison, her hero, the man she had looked up to for so long. She saw his eyes widen when he realised what was happening, saw him go to move forward, and then stop.

She watched him stare helplessly at the bastard she knew now held her life in his hands.

She begged silently. _Help me._

He tried.

"Please," Party Poison whispered to the man holding her. "Please don't do this."

"I told you," Korse growled. " _You_ are the one responsible for all of this, Gerard. _Such_ a hero."

And then, with that ever-present smirk, he pulled the trigger. There was a flash, and a cry of " _no"_ from Poison, and then Summer was falling. The last thing she saw was his eyes, and the sadness and regret in them. And then, she knew nothing else.

She was dead before she even hit the ground. She laid there, her eyes open and staring. Snuffed out. Twenty two years old, hardly more than a child, and her life had ended, just like that.

Another life lost.

_Because of him._

Poison couldn't take his eyes off of her. He crouched there, his breathing laboured, whimpering softly. This was his fault. He knew it. He had gotten her killed. Someone his brother could have cared about, if he had been given the chance. But Party had stopped any of that from even beginning. Summer was dead, thanks to him. Because he had given up. They would all soon be dead.

And, there he was, snivelling on the ground. A coward. He didn't deserve any of them.

What the hell was he _doing_?

Slowly, he averted his eyes from Summer's crumpled body, and looked up at Korse. Something had again awakened inside of him, just a spark, and he felt the tiniest rush of anger.

"You didn't have to kill her." he muttered. "She was just a kid."

"She was inconsequential."

"Inconsequential?" Gerard repeated. That anger was growing. "She was a person, just a girl."

"She was a rebel! I'll wipe every single one of you off of this planet. That's a promise. Starting with your beloved Doctor and fellow Killjoy scum." He smirked., looking over towards the battle. "Not today though, no point in losing any more Dracs." He placed his head right next to Poison's. "Not when you'll make such a good assassin and do the job for them."

_"You murdering fucking bastard!"_

Korse laughed. "Now, now, Mr Way. Don't you try and start fighting me again. You know how that will turn out. Yet more unnecessary pain for you, and still a sweet victory for me." He reached out toward Party, and when the man resisted again, he struck him hard across the face, causing the younger man to cry out and fall painfully back to the earth. With Party Poison now on his knees, Korse grasped his hair and dragged him up, twisted his head round agonisingly, and forced his victim to look at him.

Party grabbed at his hand, trying to loosen his grip. It was useless.

"You tell me, rebel." Korse hissed. "How did you really think this would end?" He tightened his hold even more, causing Party to cry out. "Did you get your hopes up? Shame." He caressed the other man's cheek. "Oh yes. You _are_ still coming with me, Gerard."

He threw Party Poison forward then, sending him flying to the ground once more. The Killjoy crashed to the ground in a heap, screaming out his anguish from the pain in his ribs that the fall caused. When Gerard finally managed to catch his breath and lift his head, he could see his beloved Trans AM was only a few feet away.

"I thought I'd take your transport," that hated voice continued, coming closer. "As mine was destroyed by your rebel friends. My Dracs have kept your friends occupied quite nicely. You and I should have no problems."

Korse bent down, and scooped up the car key still lying beside Summer.

And then, he smiled.

"Sorry, didn't I tell you already? I was sure I'd mentioned it." He crouched down beside Gerard, and ran a teasing finger down his chest, revelling in the intense fear and despair his actions caused.

_"You – are – mine."_

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Korse dragged Poison up by his hair, tightened his grip and revelled in the other man's pathetic whimpers. He looked up, taking in the destruction and chaos of the battle to the death that was still being played out just a few meters away. There were dead bodies littered everywhere, Dracs and rebels alike. He had taken some losses, true, but so had his enemy. He smirked down at the squirming Killjoy, helpless in his grasp.

The losses were acceptable. He had exactly what he wanted.

He had been waiting in the shadows, just biding his time. He had known an opportunity would present itself, if he had been patient enough. It always did. And he had been right. The Killjoys had left one by one, rushing off to be the heroes that they so longed to be, and finally had foolishly left Poison alone, protected only by a naive, stupid little girl.

It had all been too easy.

Korse was thrown out of his musings as Gerard began to struggle against his iron grip, and he frowned. _"Keep still,"_ he ordered, and heard the Killjoy cursing under his breath in response. Korse knew that the very familiar spark had returned and he grimaced. He clung on all the more tightly, not allowing the Killjoy any respite. The Exterminator was determined. He'd been caught out by the sudden appearance of the rebels, he couldn't deny it. He had known Party Poison had brains, had prior experience of the rebel's cunning, but he hadn't expected the others to come up with such a clever ruse. They were filth, after all - brainless, irrational fools that always went leaping in, feet first, led by their hearts. Isn't that what they swore by? Doctor Death Defying fed them their instructions, Gerard Way was their strategic deviser, the one who pulled them back and made them think. He had made the group clever. Without him, the Killjoys were nothing more than boys wearing costumes playing a silly, dangerous game; or that was what BLI had come to believe.

The company had apparently been given false information.

Korse began to drag Poison the remaining short distance to the Trans AM. The Killjoy leader would pay the price for how he had been outwitted. His little band of Killjoys had dared to return with a small army, outnumbering Korse and his Draculoids two to one. That was how much Party Poison's life meant to his friends. Korse had unexpectedly found himself fighting for his life. But even as he grabbed Way and pulled him closer, placing the cold steel of his ray gun against his head and chuckling in his ear, Korse was only too aware that the others would not rest until they had hunted him down and avenged their beloved Party Poison.

It had all been there, in their eyes: the barely concealed rage they were fighting to contain.

How Korse wished he could be there to see their faces when he released Gerard back to them, once the man had been reprogrammed and under the company's control. Just before their esteemed leader blew out their brains, one by one.

He smiled at the thought.

Korse then glared as Poison began to thrash around, still desperately trying to pull free.

"Don't be stupid, Gerard." He snarled, forcing him onward. "You know it's pointless."

"Fuck you, Korse!" The Killjoy spat, continuing to struggle against his tormentor's hold. “Get off me!”

Korse backhanded him hard across his face. Gerard grimaced from the force of the blow, and then slowly met his captor's gaze once more. He attempted to wrench his arm away from Korse's grasp, but the Exterminator held on.

Gerard would not give up. Not this time. He managed, with a rush of triumph, to get free from Korse, but the effort this tiny moment of freedom took managed to result in Gerard collapsing to the ground, off balance and exhausted.

Korse chuckled and kicked Poison viciously, aiming just above his cracked rib. The stricken man cried out, his laboured breathing coming out in harsh sobs as he turned his head and fixed Korse with a hateful glare. The other man shook his head, pulling Gerard up once more and laughing in his face. "Why do you keep fighting me?" He taunted. "You must know it's useless. You are a broken man, Gerard Way. You gave in to me. Why not just accept it's all over?"

Gerard's reply was a whisper. _"Because they came for me."_

The Exterminator laughed loudly. "Yes, they did.” He agreed. “Though you're not worth all of their trouble, in my opinion." He threw Gerard forward again, they were nearly at the car now. All Gerard could manage was to drag his feet, that was the most resistance he was able to offer Korse. He moaned when he felt Korse's lips by his ear, hissing his poisonous words: "And do you know how you will repay their bravery, once I send you back to them? Do you know what you'll do to them, before you finally kill them?"

"I won't do it." Gerard's hoarse voice trembled, but he meant every word. "I won't hurt my friends."

"Yes, you will." Korse countered. It was a simple statement, a cast iron truth. "And you will do it for me, with a fucking grin on your face, if I desire it." He released Gerard abruptly, and the man once again crashed to his knees, his head down. "You will torture them in ways you cannot even imagine. And not just your fellow Killjoys. You'll kill your precious Doctor, and every last one of the rebels that support him, and you." He sounded euphoric. How Gerard wished Korse would just disappear. All the Killjoy wanted then was quiet. Was that so much to ask for? Apparently so. Korse continued: "And you will not stop at the rebels, you will destroy every single person, every man, woman or child, that has ever helped you, befriended you, or showed you the slightest _hint_ of any kindness."

Party shook his head despairingly. "Those people are not your enemies, they're harmless!"

"Not if they've helped you or your Doctor, they're not. They betrayed the corporation and will therefore get exactly what they deserve. Now, Way; get into the car. It's time to leave."

Gerard stared at the Trans AM for a second, then glared up at Korse again. "It's all you do, isn't it, Korse? Kill people who can't fight back. Or destroy any trace of the person they were. Like Summer. Just another innocent person, ghosted because of you and your fucking company! Better Living? _Fuck off!"_

Korse snarled, striking Gerard across the face once again. Gerard spat onto the ground, and then his voice grew louder, his eyes wide, as he continued to struggle. Despite the pain he was in, despite the fear and doom he felt, he was not going to face his fate as a coward. He was a Killjoy. He'd fight to the end. "You don't want people to live at all, unless it's by your fucked up rules."

"Shut your mouth, Way. That girl died like the rest, because of you and your pointless cause. They all die because of _you._ Haven't you figured that out yet?"

"You know what, Korse? You can go to hell. I'm not your broken victim any more." Gerard pointed into the distance. "They came for me, they didn't give up on me. That's all I needed." He broke off, and balled his hands into fists. _Frank came._ "You're gonna kill me anyway, right? Why not just get on with it?"

Korse laughed at that. He grabbed Gerard and threw him hard against the open car door, knocking the wind out of him.

He crouched down beside the cringing man, grabbed his hair and ripped his head back, staring into his eyes. "You won't die, Gerard. On the contrary, you'll get to live. A reminder to the rest of this big wide world what happens when you go up against Better Living Industries." He leaned in closer. "You'll make a pretty little slave for me and my company, don't you think?" He grinned. "We'll share you around."

Gerard gaped, feeling shame coursing through him. Share him around? Like a whore? Like a piece of meat?

He, as calmly as he could muster, stared Korse right in the eye.

_"Fuck you."_

Korse smirked. He then, with no warning, slammed his lips against the Killjoys, and kissed him hungrily. Gerard couldn't pull away, pinned against the car door. Korse released him and leaned back. "Can't wait for round two, I see?" He drawled. "Plenty of time for that, Gerard, don't you fear."

Poison stared at him.

_Oh God, no. Not that. Not again. Never again._

"Now," Korse barked to him. "Get that tight ass of yours in the fucking car."

Gerard pursed his lips together. "No."

"Stop _fighting_ me, Gerard. You know you'll do as I ask in the end. Why bother wasting energy, mine as well as yours?" He titled his head, pulling the shooter out of his pocket and holding it up for Gerard to see. The other man froze instantly at the sight of the weapon. "Or would you prefer to give in to me the hard way yet again?" Korse's grin was chilling. "It's your choice."

Gerard blinked. He couldn't go through that again - that torture, the agony. He just couldn't take it. He'd do anything to prevent that drug burning inside of him again. _Anything._

The Killjoy closed his eyes tightly, and sighed.

Korse waited, throwing a nervous glance towards the direction of the battle raging just far enough away to not interfere with his plans. He was very aware that just the threat of using the drug on Gerard would be enough to make him compliant. Korse would only use the drug again if he had no choice. The shooter gun, the only prototype, only carried ten darts at most, and he had already used four on Gerard. He didn't want to waste any more. Especially as he wanted the controller to see the effects on the Killjoy as soon as possible, once they were back in the city.

Gerard, meanwhile, was in a quandary. He didn't want to give in, didn't want to finally give Korse the satisfaction of knowing he was done, or to let his loved ones down.

But he had just been through too fucking much.

He was so tired.

"Don't." He muttered, his eyes fixated on the ground. He would not look at the bastard.

"Say it again," Korse muttered, and grabbed Gerard's chin harshly, forced the younger man to meet his eyes. "And this time, ask me nicely."

Gerard squirmed in his grasp and averted his gaze once more. He hated him. He despised him with his very being. He had never wanted to kill anyone so desperately in his life. But, as Korse touched his arm with the shooter, he found himself blurting out the words, just as before, against his will. His eyes remained locked on the ground. "Please, Sir. Just stop. Don't use that drug on me again."

The shooter was placed against his throat. Gerard shivered.

 _"Look at me, Way!"_ Korse growled.

Very reluctantly, Gerard met Korse's cold stare.

The exterminator smiled at him approvingly. "That's better, _sweetheart._ " He taunted. "Now, will you be a good boy for me?"

Gerard knew he had no way out. He looked, though he knew it was useless, in the direction of the battle. He couldn't see any of the Killjoys or the Doc through the smoke and the fierce flames. No one was coming to save him this time. His gaze flickered back to Korse, and he nodded once.

Korse smirked. "Some common sense, at long last. You're finally learning, Gerard." He grabbed his hair again and yanked it back, his lips on the younger man's throat. "Don't ever forget what happened back at that store, Way. I broke you. I held you down and fucked you into the ground. And once you're reprogrammed, and we've removed every individual thought in that pretty little head of yours, you will be _begging_ for me to do it again." He shoved him away then, smiling as Gerard stumbled and nearly fell.

"Now, _bitch,_ do as I tell you." He snarled. "And get into the fucking _car!_ "

Gerard, his shoulders slumped in defeat, began the short walk to his car, the car that had suddenly become his hearse. Or it may as well have done. He knew he would never see Mikey, Ray or Frank again. Not as himself, anyway. If Korse truly planned to go through with his sick plan, and Gerard fully believed that he did, then he would see his Killjoys again. One last time, when he murdered them, at Korse's instructions. He wanted to be sick, wanted to fight back and prevent any of Korse's plans for him coming true, but he couldn't.

Korse had succeeded. Party Poison _was_ dead.

He heard Korse following just behind him, could feel the nozzle of his gun just touching his back lightly, a constant reminder for Gerard to remain compliant. Just as the Killjoy reached out for the open car door to help support his entry into the vehicle, a shot whizzed past him, right by his ear. He gasped, and stepped backwards, into Korse. Korse yelled out in outrage and shoved Gerard forward, forcing the weak man onto the ground next to the car, and then he whirled round. More shots zoomed towards them. Gerard steadied himself as the pain of the sudden fall swept through him, and prepared for the blasts to find him and end his torment. He heard Korse scream and he glanced up at his enemy. Korse had taken two shots, one to his shoulder, the other to his left hand. Not his gun hand, unfortunately. The man had his gun raised in response, breathing hard, staring into the smoke, clearly searching for a target. Gerard gaped. He couldn't see a thing and evidently, neither could the now furious Korse.

"Come out!" He shouted. "Face me!" He pointed his gun straight at Gerard's head. "Come on out, Killjoy scum, or I will end Gerard Way's suffering right here and now! Is that what you want?"

There was no response. But no more shots were fired either.

Korse stared intently. " _Cowards!_ " He then spat on the ground, beside Gerard, and addressed him: "I thought your trained monkeys were braver than this, _Party Poison._ " He laughed. "I certainly expected them to be better shots!"

" _Bite me,_ " Gerard muttered.

Korse leered at him, and slapped him across the face. "Sounds like fun. I might just try that." He shot a few blasts into the empty space. "Your second rescue attempt is worst than the first!" He called, tauntingly. "Don't you worry though, _boys;_ " he yelled, into the nothingness. "You'll see him again _real_ soon!"

At that, they both heard an angry, desperate shout and suddenly a man was running towards them, ray gun blasting shot after shot at Korse, who dived out of the way, crying out as one shot glanced off his side. Korse rolled expertly as he landed, got up onto his knees, took aim and returned fire. A young man he didn't recognise, not a Killjoy anyway, got a blast full in the chest and fell down. But more men were coming out of the haze, running towards Korse, not with guns raised but more crude weapons, such as metal poles or heavy planks of wood. As Gerard watched, four men surrounded Korse and began to beat him. Gerard watched, with much satisfaction, as Korse curled up into a ball to protect himself from the blows.

Suddenly, one of the men had moved away from Korse and had knelt down beside Gerard, reaching for him.

The Killjoy recoiled away, fearful, but the man placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"It's okay. We want to help you. Party Poison, right?"

"Who are you?" Gerard whispered, apprehensive. "Which group are you from?"

"No group," the man replied quickly. "This is our town."

Gerard stared at him.

"You towners are helping us? But we thought you were Better Living supporters?"

The man's eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth to reply, but then he heard a shout from behind and spun back round quickly. Korse was back up on his feet, and he was fighting back. He had grabbed hold one of the men's metal poles and was trying to wrestle it from him. And he was much stronger than his adversary. The proof of that was lying prone at his feet; one of the men was already slumped on the ground, gasping, blood pouring from a nasty looking head wound, unable to intervene while Korse fought with the other. And Korse was winning.

The older man grabbed Gerard by his shirt and pulled him close. "Quickly!" He hissed. "Have you got the key to the car?" When Gerard didn't reply at once, the man growled. "Come on, it's yours, right?"

"Yes, but he took the key," Gerard gasped.

The stranger released his grip, and instead supported the Killjoy's arm, holding him steady. "Go," he urged, jerking his head in the opposite direction, away from the Trans AM. "Get the hell out of here."

Party Poison gaped at him. "But you can't fight him alone."

"He's just one man."

"He's Korse! And he's too strong, too doped up on-"

The man gave him a small shove, interrupting him, and sending him a few feet forward.

"Just get moving." He shot another desperate look over his shoulder. "My sons need me. I promised them we'd help save you, you're their hero. Now, I've got to help them. Go now, Poison. Find your own people. Live up to the legends." He gave him a grim smile. "And keep running."

And then the man had left him and rushed back towards his sons and Korse. With the cries of the ordinary men who had been brave enough to rise up against the corporation, to save _him,_ ringing in his ears, Gerard forced himself to move. He staggered forward a few steps before falling awkwardly down onto one knee. His breathing hoarse and laboured, he tried to block out the pain, but it was too strong. It hurt. Bad. Every inch of him felt as if he was on fire. He clutched his hand to his painful rib as he forced himself to move on, knowing that this was his only chance.

The cries had stopped. He knew what that meant.

Korse was a trained killer. Those men had never stood a chance against him.

Gerard began to crawl, dragging his aching, agonised limbs along the ground. Tears of pain and effort fell from his eyes with every excruciating movement.

The despairing man knew he couldn't go on much further. His body had taken too much punishment in a short space of time. It was hopeless.

And that was when he saw him. _Frankie._ Fun Ghoul was standing a small distance away, with two men Gerard could only guess were more townsfolk judging by their dress, advancing on a troop of Dracs. There was no sign of Mikey or Ray, but Gerard knew they would not be too far away. They never were, not during a battle. That was how they had all been trained. Gerard could have sobbed in relief. A Killjoy in shouting distance. Frank was so close, if he could only move a little nearer, Gerard was certain he would see him, definitely spot the Trans AM, but he was still just that small distance too far away, and could not see Gerard through the smoke.

"Frank!" Gerard croaked. "Help me."

But Frank couldn't hear him. And Gerard couldn't shout. His throat was wrecked.

He tried again. He had to. " _Frankie, please..."_

But Frankie was moving away, unknowing that Gerard was so near by, desperately calling for him.

Gerard moaned weakly. " _No..."_

Gerard could hear him then, and his whole body tensed. The footsteps approached him from behind him, and then he heard that damned soft chuckle. Suddenly, a heavy boot was pressed down on his back and he found himself pinned. Not that he could have moved anyway. Gerard knew what this meant of course, he didn't need to see. Korse. His borrowed time was up. Sure enough, he soon heard that smug voice.

"Do you know, Gerard?" He purred, matter-of-factly. "Eventually, it's time for everyone to stop running."

He was kicked then, on to his back and he laid there, and stared up into that hated face. Korse smiled evilly at him, twirling the stolen lead pole in his right hand.

"Even _you,_ Killjoy."

Then, with no further warning, he raised the pipe high above his head, and brought it down viciously onto Gerard's left ankle. The bone broke easily with a loud cracking sound.

Despite his throat already being ravaged from the previous screaming, Gerard howled. The pain shot through him, consumed him.

Korse's looked sharply in Frank's direction. There was shouting now, and a man was gesturing madly. The Exterminator frowned.

He leaned over Gerard, and licked his lips as he took in the pitiful state of his enemy.

"No more running," he whispered.

Gerard could feel that he was losing consciousness quickly, falling into that welcome darkness, this latest agony finally too much for his body to take.

The Killjoy barely registered what was happening as his hair was grabbed once more and he was dragged backwards. Korse was rushing now, ignorant of Gerard's pained cries. The new shooting agony he could feel from his damaged ankle only added to the rest of his pre-existing injuries. He knew his body had finally reached its breaking point; he was shutting down.

He allowed Korse to pull him along, and made no attempt to resist further. As if he could. As he was dragged, he glanced down, and swallowed hard when he saw what Korse had done to the old man and his sons. The younger men were lying close to each other, one had had his neck snapped, and the other had taken two ray gun blasts to the chest. It was the image of their father, the kindly old man who had tried to help him, that would stay with him. Korse had gouged his eyes out. Gerard closed his eyes tightly, and tried to block it out. More suffering, more torture, more death; the Killjoy couldn't take it anymore. He truly was now broken, body, mind and soul. Korse was undefeatable, and Gerard should have realised that from the start.

As he began to fade, one thought ran through his mind:

_'Did Frankie hear me?'_

He quickly got his answer.

The cry of horrified outrage, together with the three shotgun blasts that struck the side of the car, bringing Korse, and therefore Gerard, to an abrupt halt. Another step, and Korse would have been finished.

_"Let him go!"_

Gerard could hear the voice but he couldn't see anything through the dirt and cloud of smoke.

"Frank," he mouthed, and then could only moan as he was yanked up by his collar, his back to Korse, his body pressed up against the Exterminator. He knew he was being used as the perfect shield. Frank wouldn't dare fire again and risk hitting him. Or that was what Korse was counting on. Gerard cringed when he felt his captor's ray gun once more held against his head.

"I'd stop, if I were you!" Korse shouted out. "Show yourself, or _you_ will be responsible for his death."

A shape stepped out of the smoke and dust, his gun aimed straight at Korse and Gerard, and his Killjoy mask covered his face.

"I'm not going to let you take him."

Korse bared his teeth. "Is that right, Fun Ghoul?" He taunted. "Isn't that your name?" He tightened his grip on Gerard. "Well, you have me at a disadvantage. Take off the mask, Ghoul. Let me see your face."

Fun Ghoul hesitated.

Korse glared. He tilted his head, aimed his gun at Gerard's shoulder, and fired. Gerard screamed as the red-hot blast burned into his flesh. Frank went to surge forward but he stopped when the Exterminator's gun returned to his lover's head.

"The next shot goes directly into his brain, Killjoy." Korse barked. "Now, _take off the mask._ "

This time, Ghoul obeyed. He removed his mask carefully, and dropped it onto the ground.

"Better," Korse noted. "And now that you're feeling more agreeable, Frank Iero, why don't you put your gun down?"

Fun Ghoul actually chuckled, and then shook his head in disbelief.

"Not going to happen."

Korse raised an eyebrow. "Would you prefer to watch Gerard die, then?"

Frank swallowed hard. To have to stand there and watch his lover die after coming so close to rescuing him? He couldn't think of anything worse, apart from seeing him disappear in that car. Frank knew the fate awaiting Gerard in that city would be one worse than death. As Gerard met Frank's gaze, the brunette knew, from looking into those big brown eyes, that Gerard was thinking the same thing. As Frank continued to stare, he saw the pain and fear in those eyes and he had to look away. All he wanted to do was put an end to this. To just stop Gerard's suffering, once and for all.

"Let him go." He said again purposefully.

"I don't think so." Korse whispered. He gripped Gerard ever more tightly, and squeezed his wounded shoulder. Gerard gritted his teeth but couldn't stop a despairing moan from escaping his lips.

Frank trembled ever so slightly when he saw his lover's added pain. "Stop hurting him! I swear to God I will kill you unless you -"

"Will you now?" Korse interjected, smirking. "If you try to shoot me, you could very easily hit your beloved Gerard instead." Another cold chuckle. "Could you live without him Frank, I wonder? And could you live with yourself, knowing you _yourself_ pulled the trigger and ended his life?"

Frank paused. This was stalemate. And they all knew it.

There was only one chance.

"Take me instead of him."

Gerard whimpered. Frank stole a look at him. His boyfriend stared at him, wild-eyed, shaking his head desperately.

Korse was stunned.

"What did you say?"

"You need a Killjoy, right?" Frank said hurriedly. "Well, I'm a Killjoy too, just like Party. If you let him go, I'll go with you in his place. Do whatever the fuck you want to me. Just leave him alone." And then, he added, so softly; "Please."

"No," Gerard gasped. "Frankie, you can't-"

"Shut your mouth, Way." Korse snapped. "Who gave you permission to speak?" His gaze met Frank's again. "You would give up your life for him, Frank?"

Frank frowned. "I'd do anything for him."

Korse laughed. "Are you this loyal to all of your _best friends?_ "

Ghoul blushed. "I-"

"Is that not how you described him?" Korse was enjoying himself. "I have to say, I was surprised. He'd led me to believe there was more between you." His hand trailed down Gerard's chest. Frank could see the disgust on his lover's face and he knew why.

_"Don't touch him."_

Another smirk. "Far too late, Iero. Do you want to know what I did to your little boyfriend? I fucked him. And he screamed and cried and begged for me to stop. I broke him, Frank, in every way possible. And he belongs to _me_ now. Do you really think I'd give him up? For a lackey?" He threw his bald head back and laughed. "He's mine, not yours."

"You fucking bastard." Frank wanted to be sick. He had never felt so angry, so _furious,_ in his life. "You're a rapist. A sick, perverted-"

"Put the gun down, Fun Ghoul." Korse sighed. "We both know you won't fire-"

_"Do it, Frank."_

Korse broke off abruptly. Gerard had spoken so softly, Frank was sure he hadn't heard him correctly.

"What?"

"Just shoot the bastard. Don't worry about me."

"Gee, I can't just-"

Gerard grimaced. "He's going to do a lot worse to me, Frank. Please. Do it for me-"

Korse shook Gerard in an attempt to silence him. "That's enough from you, _Party Poison._ " He hissed in his ear, and then clamped a sweaty hand over his prisoner's mouth.

He then turned his attention once more to Frank, his eyes narrowed.

"Go on then, Frank." He urged. "Kill me, if you can. Get lucky."

Frank hesitated, and his gun hand trembled. Gerard was still appealing to him with his eyes, silently begging for Frank to follow his wishes. But Frank already knew, he wouldn't fire. He couldn't risk shooting his lover.

He could not watch Gerard die.

"I'm sorry, Gee." Frank mouthed.

Gerard shook his head desperately.

Frank lowered his gun, his eyes not leaving Gerard's. The sound of Korse's taunting laughter made the younger Killjoy cringe. Glancing at the hated man, he saw him aiming his gun and knew he was about to die.

Korse shrugged. "You Killjoys. You've saved Gerard from nothing, believe me. You know, he was fighting me again. Party Poison was rearing his ugly head once more, rising up again out of the sad, pathetic Gerard Way. And he's no good to me like that, I need him broken. Your death should do the trick." He grinned evilly. "So, thank you for your help, Frank."

His finger covered the trigger.

"Say goodbye, Gerard. Oh, I'm sorry, you can't speak, can you? Too bad."

Frank and Gerard stared at one another.

A lone tear fell down Frank's cheek. He wiped it away.

"I love you." he whispered. Gerard shook his head, desperate.

Gerard came to life. One last effort, to save the man he adored. He bit down hard into Korse's hand, drawing blood. Korse yelled his outrage, ripping his hand away and staggering back a step or two. Then, with his last vestige of strength, Gerard threw his head back, head butting Korse painfully and the hated man staggered backwards, moaning in pain and surprise. Gerard grabbed Korse's gun hand and twisted, forcing the man to drop his weapon.

 _"Gun, Frank..."_ Gerard gasped.

Frank dived for the blaster. But Korse moved quicker. Gerard, exhausted, had fallen to his knees in front of Korse. With a snarl, the Exterminator grasped the back of his enemy's neck and held him steady. He then pulled out the Shooter and, with a cry of triumph, injected another dart into Gerard, who gasped at the sharp pain.

"What have you done?" Frank cried.

Gerard closed his eyes.

Korse whispered in his ear. "Level Ten, Gerard. So long and goodnight, fucker." Gerard cringed. _Those words..._ Korse chuckled, taking great pleasure in taunting Gerard one final time. He allowed him to fall to the ground, where he landed with a thud, and then Korse smiled at Frank, who was covering him with his own gun, trembling. "Now, the question is, what is more important to you, Fun Ghoul. Him, or me?"

Frank was staring at Gerard. His lover was shaking, trying to crawl away from his enemy, towards Frank. And he was trembling uncontrollably. He slumped to the ground, entirely spent.

Frank's eyes met Korse's again and his finger tightened on his trigger.

All he had to do was fire.

Gerard whimpered. "Frankie!"

Korse's smile broadened. "You should put him out of his misery, Frank. This is going to hurt him. A lot. The highest levels of the drug always take longer to take hold. Shame I must miss the big finish." His eyes flashed as he regarded the dark haired Killjoy. "Is he worth your life, Frank? Come after me, prove yourself. Don't you want to avenge your precious Party Poison?" He edged backwards, to the car. "I'll be waiting."

Frank reached out for his lover, all thoughts of Korse banished. He dropped the gun on the floor, and didn't bat an eyelid when Korse reached down to reclaim it. He merely looked up at the exterminator when Korse held the gun against his head. "Keep running." Korse whispered. "Find me."

He didn't bother to reply, didn't even watch the bastard spin the car around, or see his mocking wave. Frank watched him go as he clung to Gerard. He was all that mattered now.

"I'm sorry, Frankie..." Gerard moaned softly.

"Don't be. You saved my life." He kissed his forehead. "You're gonna be okay. Whatever he did-"

Gerard had just a second to shake his head before he felt the familiar burning feeling beginning to build, coming to claim him once more as the drug again took hold of him. For the final time. He managed a weak smile to Frank, and he reached out gingerly for his lover's hand, which Frank grabbed.

Then, Gerard screamed. It was a cry of pure despair and agony.

"No, Gerard? What's wrong? What is it?" Tightening his hold on Gerard, Frank looked up and yelled, as loud as he could, _"Doctor Death! Help me!"_

Gerard began to writhe. His hand slipped from Frank's grasp, as the red-haired man arched his back. His horrendous cries ripped through Frank.

"Oh my God," Frank gasped, terrified to see his lover in such pain. "What the fuck can I do? Tell me what to do!"

He tried to comfort Gerard, pulled him closer and stroked his hair.

"DOCTOR DEATH," he called out again, twisting his head round. "PLEASE!"

He could only pray that someone would hear him.

"Gerard, can you hear me?" Frank pleaded. "Please, fight this!"

Gerard couldn't answer him. His torment had gripped him and was not letting go. His fingers gripped his face and he clawed at his own skin, left bloody marks. He was clearly out of his mind from the torment. He had no idea Frank was there. Then suddenly, his screams quieted, his writhing slowed and then, to his terror, Frank realised Gerard's breathing was slowing down, exhaled in whimpers and gasps. Frank was not naïve. He knew why.

Gerard was dying.

Frank scooped his lover up into his arms and gently rocked him.

"Don't you do this to me." He whispered, unable to stop the silent tears. "Don't you leave me." All his focus was on Gerard, he took no notice of the footsteps he heard behind him.

If it was a Drac, then the bastard could finish him too. Frankie had no fight left in him. He didn't give a shit anymore.

_"Frank, move!"_

Frank jumped and his head whipped round to see.

Suddenly, Defying was there, falling down beside Frank. He pushed Frank back determinedly, all colour drained from the Doctor's face when he took in Gerard's condition. With one hand on Gerard's shoulder, and the other clutching his communicator, Death desperately requested help.

"Get the MediVan over here now. _Just do it, dammit!"_

He threw his communicator to the ground, and Death began, even as his hands trembled, to search inside his coat pockets. He looked for something, anything, that he felt could help, that could give them time. He had no idea what the drug was that Gerard had been injected with, but he hoped he could stabilise the young man until the van arrived and they could get him some proper aid.

He found a vial containing the cocktail of drugs he was searching for, and quickly as he could, set up the needle and injected the mixture into Gerard's arm.

"What was that?" Frank demanded to know. He was on his feet now, unable to keep still.

Death looked up at him. "It's a drug I concocted, it eases pain. I don't know what Korse used, but this is the best I can do."

"Will it save him?"

"I don't know, Frank..."

He looked back down at Gerard quickly, who let out a low moan. Then he laid still, eyes closed.

Doctor Death swore loudly.

"No you don't, boy."

As Frank looked on, devastated, Defying began to administer CPR, desperately trying to save Gerard's life.

But Frank already knew it was useless.

His face showed no emotion as Doctor Dearth Defying worked to revive the man he loved.

Frank knew better. "He's dead." He muttered.

"No, he's not." Defying growled. "COME ON, GERARD!" Doctor Death shouted, and hit the Killjoy's chest, tried hard to get his heart beating once more. "FIGHT IT!"

Gerard inhaled sharply.

Doctor Death Defying almost sobbed with relief.

"I've got a heart beat. He's back." He looked over his shoulder angrily. "Where's that van, for fuck's sake!"

"GERARD!"

The new voice cut through the air like a knife and Frank was startled. He looked round, in a haze, to see Mikey and Ray racing towards him. Mikey ran past Frank and fell to knees by his brother's head. He stared at Doctor Death in stunned horror.

"What happened? I left him with -"

Mikey caught sight of Summer's crumpled body, which lay a few feet away. He stared at what was left of the young girl he had befriended, who had been brave enough to try and protect his brother while he had to run off and be a hero.

"Oh, God..."

He covered his face with his hand, unable to watch as his brother fought for life.

A fight he would lose.

Mikey had lost his big brother. Summer and Gerard were dead, and it was all his fault.

Ray stood beside Frank. He was holding Gerard's beloved jacket tightly, his eyes not leaving his friend's face. He stared, his heart breaking, as he watched Doctor Death Defying's efforts to save his leader and best friend.

Nobody knew what to say. Nobody knew what to do.

Was this really happening?

"Frank?" Ray whispered. "Did Korse...?"

His words broke off. He already knew the answer.

"He killed him, Ray." Frank stated. "And he smiled as he did it."

Ray swallowed hard. "He's strong, Frank. He'll make it."

Frank shook his head firmly. "He's dead."

Frank's ears suddenly pricked up when he heard the unmistakable sound of an engine. He glanced round to see the Doctor's MediVan rushing towards them. Frank watched as the van came to a halt right in front of him. Two men opened the doors and jumped out, grasping equipment and running to Doctor Death's side.

"Quickly, or we will lose him!" Frank heard Defying snap.

Frank's gaze returned to the van. He stepped closer, his hand reaching for his gun.

_'Is he worth your life, Frank? Come after me, prove yourself.'_

"Frank? What are you doing?" He heard Ray's confused cry, but e didn't respond.

His gun now raised, he walked around the van, to the driver's side.

Ray grabbed his arm, and tried to hurl him back.

"Don't be so _stupid,_ Frank!" He hissed. "Gerard wouldn't want-".

Frank snarled. Beside himself with grief and a longing for revenge, he didn't hesitate. He struck out, and knocked Ray to the ground, his lip cut and bleeding.

_'Don't you want to avenge your precious Party Poison?'_

Frank didn't give Ray another glance. Instead, he pointed the gun at the driver.

"What the fuck?" The driver exclaimed.

"Get out." Frank ordered.

The man stared back. "Look, I know-"

_'I'll be waiting'._

"I won't ask again." Frank continued, his voice steady. "Take all the medicine and shit with you. People need help, lots are wounded. I just want the van. Now, GET OUT."

The man weighed up his chances. He knew this was a desperate man. Coming to the only possible conclusion, he banged the door behind him, telling everyone to take as much as they could, and move. Soon, three men and one woman were standing, holding boxes of medical equipment, as Frank climbed into their van.

Frank turned the key in the ignition and the van sparked to life.

Then Ray, holding his jaw, was there again, and he pulled on the now locked door and banged the window in fury.

"Don't be an idiot, Frank!" Ray yelled. "You can't go after him."

Frank's eyes were cold and lifeless. Ray knew he wouldn't get through to him. There was only one man who could, and four men were still working to desperately save his life.

There was no stopping Frank now.

"He's dead, Ray." Frank told him, his voice breaking. "And Korse will be too."

And, with that, he glanced at Ray one last time, and then reversed the vehicle. He turned it round expertly and roared away.

And Ray could only stare after him, devastated.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

Frank gripped the steering wheel tightly, his face grim, determined to complete the task he had set himself. He stared straight ahead into the sunlight, unblinking. He gazed, but he couldn't see the desert stretching out before him. All he could see was Gerard, and the look of anguish on his lover's face when Korse had used the shooter gun on him. The finality and defeat that Frank had seen in those brown eyes would haunt him for the rest of his days, however long that would prove to be. Gerard had known it was all over, he knew Korse had won and that he was going to die.

 _Korse._

Fun Ghoul's hands shook as he pictured the bastard's smug face. Korse had actually smirked as he had taken the most important person in Frank's life away. He'd fucking _smirked_. Frank took one hand off of the wheel, and reached out to grasp his ray gun instead. His grip tightened as he gritted his teeth. He would kill Korse. Slowly. He would make him suffer for every moment of torment he had forced Gerard to endure. The fucker would pay. Frank swore that, on Gerard's life.

Frank steered his mind away from Korse, not wanting to waste precious thoughts on him any longer. Memories were all he had left of Gerard now and he needed to cherish them. He felt the pain swelling deep within him as he recalled himself and Gerard in his old bedroom, before the wars, before Better Living Industries. Even before the band, before it had all gone so crazy. He heard them laughing, saw them wrestling, enjoying each other's company. He felt his guitar in his hands as he strummed a few chords, when he had first begun to play, and he remembered how amazing it felt when Gerard would sing along with him. Gerard could sing so passionately, even back then.

Frank had realised he was in love with his best friend pretty soon after those days. And that love had only grown stronger over the years. They had travelled the world together, become a unit. And it had been so perfect. Life had been perfect. And then, everything had changed. The wars, and the bombs had come and the world had died. He had joined Better Living, just like they all had. He'd taken the drugs, needing to forget. He'd accepted their way was the only option and had become a drone, like everyone else. But then, Gerard and Mikey had come to him that fateful day, needing a place to hide, telling him they were being hunted. They had needed his help, and he had offered it gladly. And then, Korse had come for them there too. So, he'd had no choice. He left his life, left everything he'd ever known to run with them, just like the old days. And they had picked up Ray and then had all run together, and from that day onwards, they'd never stopped.

Until now.

Now, it was all over.

Gerard was dead. There was no second chance. Frank would never hear him sing ever again.

Fun Ghoul swore under his breath as he wiped at the tears spilling down his cheeks. This was showing weakness and that would be no help to him. He had to be strong if he was going to avenge the man he loved, and destroy the man who had broken him. Frank glowered. Gerard hadn't just been broken. He'd been tortured. _Raped._ Korse hadn't just made an example of Gerard, he'd ripped the man apart and when there was nothing left to take, he'd murdered him. 

He imagined the agony Gerard had endured. He could hear him screaming, begging for Korse to stop, for Frank to come and save him.

But Frank hadn't gotten there in time. He hadn't saved Gerard from Korse's sick games.

He hadn't saved Gerard at all.

He would not let him down again now. 

Now, it was Korse's turn to scream.

And that was when he saw him. Korse was standing in the middle of the road, just slightly into the distance, leaning against the Trans AM, his arms crossed against his chest. He wore sunglasses, obviously to protect him from the glare of the sun as he hovered there, waiting for Frank. Because Frank knew Korse had expected him to follow. He'd goaded him into it. Frank was not an idiot and all his Killjoy senses were screaming at him that this had to be a trap. Korse on his own, waiting for him, apparently unarmed. How could this not be a trap? 

But Frank didn't care. Korse had killed Gerard. What more pain could he possible cause? There was nothing worse.

Frank hit the brakes. He stared, expressionless, at Korse. He was close enough now to see the other man clearly.

The corners of the Exterminator's lips curled up as he regarded Frank. 

The bastard found this funny.

'Fucker.'

Frank slammed his fist against the steering wheel. For a split second, the Killjoy contemplated bringing all this to an abrupt end, sticking the van into as high a gear as he could, and then simply ploughing into Korse, ridding the world of the filth once and for all. Korse raised an eyebrow, and Frank knew why. Korse could read his mind. He was silently daring him to do it.

He wanted to know just how far Frank was willing to go to avenge his lover.

Frank revved the engine. 

Korse chuckled. And shook his head.

'He's laughing at me,' Frank reasoned. 'He's fucking mocking me'.

Without even thinking, he flicked up his middle finger at Korse, which only seemed to amuse the bastard further, and, slamming his foot down, he set off again, heading straight towards Korse, who didn't even flinch. Just as Frank was bearing down on the Exterminator, just as he thought he saw a moment of uncertainty on that smug face, Frank suddenly hit the brake once again. He swore under his breath as he swerved the van, and came to a halt mere meters away from where Korse stood. Breathing hard, Frank collapsed against the wheel, and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

He felt weak, a failure. But he knew there was no way he could do it. 

Not kill Korse, obviously - he could happily do that.

No. Something else had struck him as Frank had borne down upon Korse, a realisation that had stopped him in his tracks: He could not destroy the Trans AM.

Gerard had loved the car. It was a reminder of him, and the times they had shared. Frank would have wrecked the car if he had kept going, as well as Korse, and he would not take another piece of Gerard. That was what the car was now. Another memory. 

Frank closed his eyes. He didn't want the fucking car. He wanted Gerard. 

He was an idiot. And now his chance had gone.

“Are you going to sit in there all day?” Frank tensed when he heard the low, taunting voice from only mere feet away. “I'm a busy man, Fun Ghoul. Shall we get this over with?”

Frank balled his hands into fists. He had to be calm, steady. If he was overcome by emotion, this would be all over before it began.

He had to be strong. Just like Gerard had been.

His hand wrapped around his ray gun. He tried to clear his head.

_'Just kill him. Don't let him speak. Just pull the fucking trigger and watch him die.'_

Taking a deep breath, Frank pushed open the door, and jumped out of the van. His gun hand outstretched, he began a slow walk towards Korse, who smirked triumphantly as he watched Frank approach. 

“I'm guessing he's dead, then?” Korse sneered, his eyebrow raised. He took of his sunglasses and threw them to one side. “I am so very sorry for your loss.” 

Frank seethed inwardly. He would wipe the smirk off of that face. He swore to himself and to the memory of Gerard that he would see pure fear there before he let Korse die. And he would enjoy it. 

“He's free of you,” Frank growled softly. “And now it’s your turn to suffer, asshole.” 

Korse chuckled. “Oh, you think so?” He gestured with his arms, “Take your best shot then, Killjoy!”

Frank glowered, his finger covering the trigger. “My pleasure,” he spat but before he was able to make certain of his aim and fire the gun, two Dracs appeared on either side of him, and each grabbed hold of his arms and held him steady. Frank cursed loudly and struggled but they held him firmly.

How could he have been so stupid? He had been so focused on Korse, and his imminent moment of victory for Gerard, that he had not even listened for the tell-tale signs that they had not be alone. He had already wasted his second opportunity in minutes. A third Drac moved to stand in front of him, wrestled the gun from Frank's grasp and stood back. Disarmed and helpless, Frank could only continue to struggle pointlessly as he was forced roughly to his knees.

Korse, smiling, walked slowly towards him.

“Trying to avenge your lover then, Mr. Iero?” He mocked. “How very noble of you.”

“Bite me.” Frank spat.

Korse regarded him closely, and then shook his head again in amusement. “And to think I actually suspected you were smarter than Gerard. I guess I was mistaken.” He held out his hand for Frank's gun, and the Drac that had taken the weapon from the Killjoy rushed to obey his master. 

Korse took the gun and inspected it closely. He grinned at Frank, who glared hatefully back. The Exterminator then reached into his jacket pocket, and pulled out Gerard's yellow blaster. He held it up like a prize, for Frank to see.

“Your gun will make a nice addition to my new collection,” he purred. “I intend to own all four eventually.” Another cold smile, before he added; “Naturally.”

“You won't catch Jet or Kobra.”

Korse shrugged. “Perhaps not. Perhaps, I won't need to.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Frank demanded.

“You'll find out.”

Frank was out of patience. “Fuck you, Korse.”

There was a flicker of rage on Korse's face that passed quickly. “So much like your lover,” he whispered. “You have the same futile defiance. You'll quickly realise, Frank, just like Gerard did before you, that fighting me is a waste of effort. You cannot win, Fun Ghoul.”

“Gerard didn't stop fighting you.” Frank retorted proudly. “And neither will I.”

“Is that what you need to believe, Iero?” Korse breathed, his face right up against his prisoner’s. “That Gerard fought me valiantly all the way and I didn't break him?” He laughed, spraying Frank with spittle, then grabbing his hair and tore his head back. “I'm so sorry to burst your bubble, Frankie. But I reduced your proud boyfriend to a quivering _mess._ And I will do the same to you.”

Frank swallowed hard. His mind flashed back to when he had entered that godforsaken storeroom and the state he had found Gerard in. Half-naked, scared, so small. Defeated. 

And then Frank's thoughts turned to his boyfriend's last desperate attack on Korse, using the last of his strength to save Frank's life. 

Gerard had not been broken then. He must have known he had no chance but that hadn't stopped him. He had rediscovered that fire that had burned within Party Poison, just for a second, and his Gerard had been back. He had died fighting, and Korse could never take that away.

Gerard had won.

Frank actually smiled. “He died protecting me, and fighting you right to the end. You didn't beat him. You lost.”

Korse's eyes narrowed. He gripped Frank's chin and forced the Killjoy to look him in the eye. “He died at my hand, you arrogant little-”

“He sacrificed himself,” Frank snapped back. “He knew he was done when he fell to his knees, I saw the look on his face, his smile-” Despite the agony Frank could feel deep within him, his memory of Gerard was giving him the strength he needed to keep going. Surprising himself, his smile widened. “You didn't kill Gerard, he _gave_ his life away. And, for that, I'll love him more than you could even imagine, being nothing but a unimaginative, unoriginal, Better Living _employee._ Nothing but a drone, Korse. You didn't win a fucking _thing!”_

Korse couldn't hold back. He struck Frank across the face, snapping his head to one side and cutting his lip. Frank swallowed hard, composed himself, and then moved his head, returning Korse's gaze once more. He smirked. “See?” He whispered. “Unimaginative.” 

And he spat up into Korse's face.

It took all of Korse's self-control not to simply beat Fun Ghoul to death there and then. He had known what to expect from Party Poison, that man's behaviour patterns had been well documented and he had been easier to read, seeing how self-righteous he had been and how much he’d believed in his pathetic cause. Fun Ghoul was another animal altogether, and an animal that had already lost the most important thing in his life. Now Ghoul was apparently happy just to join Gerard, but not before leaving in a blaze of glory.

That thought brought a smirk back to Korse's face. Iero would go out in a blaze alright. He would leave a trail of destruction in his wake. And although the man had already lost everything, Korse still knew only too well how to push Frank Iero's buttons. And he intended to push him to the very edge.

Gesturing for the Dracs to tighten their holds on Frank, and causing him to moan in discomfort, Korse once again leaned in close. 

“I look forward to teaching you some manners, Killjoy.” Korse hissed. “You will soon discover such savage behaviour is unacceptable in our city.”

Frank glared. “Not my city.”

A cold smile. “We'll see.” Korse reached out, and gently stroked the Killjoys long dark hair. He smiled knowingly when Frank flinched. “You're as pretty as your boyfriend was, aren't you, Frank?”

Frank moaned, and tried to pull away, but he couldn't move. They had him trapped.

“In fact,” Korse continued, “I think you might just be even prettier.” His lips brushed against Frank's ear. “I always have preferred brunettes.”

“Get the fuck away from me,” Frank snarled, disgusted.

Korse chuckled. “I wonder if you taste as good as Gerard did,” he added, his voice hoarse, almost seductive. “I can't wait to find out.”

Frank wanted to vomit. He couldn't bear it.

He fought to keep control. He could get through this; he had to.

“I'm going to kill you,” he replied finally, as calmly as he could manage. “You sick fuck. You're a dead man, Korse.” 

“I owe you an apology, Frank Iero,” Korse announced, ignoring Frank's threats. “When I told you you were nothing but a lackey, I did you a disservice. I certainly preferred to have Party Poison in this position instead of you, but he's gone now, and you are a very worthy replacement.” He smiled coldly, and then punched Frank hard in the gut. The Dracs released their hold on the Killjoy and he fell from his position on his knees to the ground, gasping for air, staring up at Korse with hatred. 

Korse stood over him, smiling triumphantly. “You are in my power, and this is exactly what lover boy died to avoid. You have sullied his memory, Fun Ghoul, and I thank you for that. Let’s see what other damage you and I can cause together to Gerard's dream.” He knelt down beside the bewildered Killjoy. “I'm sure you can kill as well as Party Poison ever could, right Frank?”

Frank wasn't following. He gazed up at Korse, trying to catch his breath.

“What are you-”

Korse shrugged, uninterested in Frank's reply. “Oh, of course you can. You're a Killjoy, after all. Way himself taught you how to kill, did he not, as soon as you all ran from the City and became Zone rats? It was Gerard that turned you into an outlaw, a thief, and a murderer, just like him?" A very unpleasant smile spread across his cruel features. “Yes, Ghoul. You'll do just fine.”

He turned his attention from Frank, and quickly glanced over his shoulder, suddenly distracted. “We can't afford to waste any more time here.” He turned round quickly, and addressed his two Dracs, who snapped to attention at once. “It is time for us to move out. The rebels could come for him at any moment. I do not wish to be surprised by any more ill-advised rescue attempts.” He jerked his head towards Frank. “Take the prisoner to the patrol transporter and restrain him inside. We must take him to the Co-Ordinator.” He leered at Frank. “She will be very happy to see him.”

The Dracs nodded their understanding, and hurled Frank to his feet. Frank eyed Korse hatefully.

The Exterminator beamed back.

“I will catch you up, Frank. I just need to leave a little surprise for your friends before I leave.”

He held up a little ball for Frank to see, which was sat harmlessly in the palm of his hand. It was tiny, no bigger than a marble.

“You recognise this, Killjoy?” He spoke as if he were addressing a small child. “It is a sensor bomb.” He toyed with the ball, rolling it with his thumb. “I can programme it in a number of ways, Iero. I'm sure you would be impressed. I could choose to set a timer, or for the Sensor to react to any sound, or it can be used simply as a grenade and explode on impact.” He pretended to throw it in Frank's direction. The Killjoy didn't flinch. Korse smirked. He was enjoying himself. “But this particular bomb will be set to explode at any movement it senses. Any small motion close to the device will detonate it. And, trust me, this ball may be small, but the explosion it causes can do a great deal of damage.”

Frank kept quiet, but he couldn't hide the fear that he was certain showed on his face. He'd seen what this new Better Living invention could do over the last few weeks. Homes destroyed in the blink of an eye, and with them, whole families wiped out because they had spoken up against Korse and his Corporation. 

Korse was smiling broadly. “So, I assume your reaction proves that you have seen the results of one of these little babies before?” Frank remained silent. Korse nodded. “Good. Then you'll know I'm not exaggerating when I tell you that should either Kobra Kid or Jet Star open their beloved cars doors, which they will, and disturb my little present, they will both go _boom.”_ He chuckled. “I hope I can dispose of them both this way. Clean and easy. The end of the Killjoys, at long last. You will all be forgotten in a week.”

Frank trembled. He took a step towards Korse, only to be restrained once again by the Draculoids. “You don't have to hurt them. You've got me. You don't need them.”

“Precisely.” Korse said smugly. “So they can both die. At least it will be quick, unlike their not-so-fearless leader’s demise.” He grinned, and leaned closer to Frank. “And once they are gone, that will leave you free to finish off the rest of the rebels for us.”

Frank blinked. “What?”

Another smirk. “Maybe even Doctor Death Defying himself. With no Killjoys to protect him, he'll be a perfect target.”

“You're insane!” Frank threw at him. “I'll never-”

“Yes, you will, Fun Ghoul.” Korse told him. “You'll do whatever I tell you. And you will be happy to obey.” He held the fuming Killjoy’s gaze for a moment, and then waved to the Dracs. “Now, take him.”

Struggling with all the strength he had left, and shouting his fury, Frank found himself being pulled towards a wall and he soon realised the prior mentioned transporter waited just beyond it, out of sight. As he was pulled closer and closer to the vehicle that would take him away from the Killjoys, the desert and his freedom, he looked desperately back and saw that Korse was at the Trans AM, his hand on the door handle. He was really going to do it; Frank knew that there was every chance that Ray or Mikey would pull open the doors, and then that would be that. Maybe both would be caught in the explosion, and God only knew how many other innocents. 

Frank shook his head madly. 

No. This was not going to happen. He had already lost Gerard. No one else he loved was going to die that day.

So, Frank did exactly what he knew Gerard would have done. What Gerard _did_ do in that damned room, alone and scared:

He fought.

He wrestled his arm away, out of the grasp of one of his Draculoid captors. As soon as his hand was free, he struck out at the nearest Drac, and knocked it off balance. The other was momentarily surprised by this unexpected show of force by the supposedly weakened Killjoy, and it loosened its grip. Frank took the opportunity and before he knew it, both his arms were free. He screamed his rage, and grabbed for one of the Drac's ray guns. He fought with the robot for a second, but the Drac was no match for his pure hate or desire to win, and he was able to snatch the gun from it, turn it quickly, and fire, straight at his enemy's head. The Drac fell without making a sound.

Frank stole a look to Korse and saw with relief that the Exterminator had left the car untouched, and was returning, still clutching the small devices, to the scene of the small skirmish with a face like thunder. Frank knew he didn't have a second to spare. With a gasp, he dived to one side then, sensing that the two other Dracs were moving into battle mode, and preparing to return fire. He knew he had to move fast. He fell to one knee and began to blast. He knew his foes had taken some hits. When the smoke cleared, he saw the second Drac was now lying on the ground, dead. That left only one remaining. It opened fire at Frank but the Killjoy, hearing Gerard's words of advice in his head, was quicker. Flinging himself to the ground, Frank avoided the first blast the Drac sent at him, but not the second, and he was struck on his side. He yelled his outrage, then, gritting his teeth against the searing pain, turned and ran at the first Drac, who didn't get the opportunity to shoot for a third time. He screamed until he was hoarse, and Frank pinned the Drac beneath him and proceeded to pummel it mercilessly. It had ceased moving long before Frank stopped punching. The Killjoy took a deep breath as he gazed down at his very dead foe, then, a second too late, heard a sound from behind him. He spun round, gun raised, but Korse was already upon him. Frank’s stolen weapon was knocked uselessly to one side and out of his reach.

And now, he was defenceless, and facing a very angry Exterminator.

With a snarl, Korse seized Frank by his throat, dragged him up off of the ground so his feet were left dangling beneath him, and threw him towards the Trans AM. Frank sailed through the air, and crashed to the ground with a bump, severely winded. He lay on the ground, gasping for breath. He tried to move but couldn't; everything hurt. He cringed as he heard Korse stalking towards him. Korse kicked out and Frank grunted in agony and curled up, trying to protect himself from the expected blows.

Frank knew he was no match for Korse in a fist fight. The man was so pumped up on the drugs prescribed to him by his corporation, he could beat Frank to death with hardly any effort. 

He moaned as he was grabbed once again, and this time thrown against the car, and held firmly. Korse, his eyes flaming, leaned closer to the defenceless man.

“You Killjoy rats. You're all the same. Just like Gerard before you, you are weak.”

Frank glared. “And you need drugs to feel like a man. What’s the matter, Korse? Feeling inadequate?”

Korse's face darkened. “Perhaps you should ask your lover,” he snarled. “Oh, that's right, he's a corpse, isn't he?” 

Frank swallowed hard. “Bastard,” he hissed. “Rapist scum.”

“You seem so fixated on mine and Gerard’s time together,” he smirked, running a finger down Frank’s cheek in a mock display of affection. “Maybe you would like to experience something similar for yourself? Lovers share _everything,_ do they not?”

Frank was sickened.

“Touch me and I'll end you.”

Korse shook his head. “You two are so alike, you have the same fire, the same anger. I like it,” he nibbled at Frank's earlobe. “I think I will enjoy taking you just like I did him.”

Frank swallowed hard. “Go fuck yourself, Korse.”

“I don't need to, I've got you.”

Frank had heard enough. “Yeah? I'll kill myself before I let your filthy hands anywhere near me.” He took a breath, before adding, “I'd rather fuck a Drac.”

Korse saw red. Holding him tightly, he balled his hand into a fist and went to strike his enemy. Frank, reading his intention, somehow managed to wriggle free, so Korse sent his fist straight into the car's window instead, causing him to cry out as he smashed the glass, and left shards lying all over the sand. Frank, who had slid down to the ground to avoid Korse's attack, stared at the glass at his feet as he tried to catch his breath, and regain his composure.

With a cry of annoyance, Korse gripped his hair, dragged him back up, and yanked his head back. He then placed his ray gun against Frank's cheek.

Both men were breathing hard, eyeing each other.

Korse cleared his throat.

”You want all the details, Frank?” 

Frank glared.

“You want to know every single little thing I did to your pretty boyfriend?”

The Killjoy still did not reply. Exactly what was he supposed to say to that?

Korse didn't appreciate his silence.

He pressed his hand to the wound on Frank's side and squeezed. Frank whimpered, and let out a low sob as the pain seized him.

“Answer me!” Korse snapped, adding more pressure

“I don't want to know,” Frank gasped.

Korse chuckled, and released his grip. “That's too bad,” he whispered. “Because _you_ were clearly on Gerard's mind.”

Frank, still trembling from the pain, stared at Korse. He didn't want to ask what he meant, didn't want to know just how much his lover had suffered during Korse's abuse of him, but he couldn't deny he was curious. Had Gerard gained strength from thinking of Frank? Even though he had not been there, had Gerard imagined he was and gotten through the hellish experience thanks to that? Was that what Korse referred to?

Frank couldn't help it. He had to know.

“Gerard mentioned me?” He muttered, and cringed at how pathetic he sounded. 

Korse laughed quietly. “Oh yes. As I fucked him, as he cried out so beautifully for me, his thoughts turned to you. In fact, at the moment I completed my claiming of him, he whispered your name. And do you know what, Frankie? You weren't there. And I truly believe that was the precise second, when something inside Gerard snapped.” His eyes narrowed as he went for the jugular. “Thinking of you _broke_ him. How does that make you feel, Frank?”

Frank was shaking like a leaf. He knew the tears were falling down his face but right then, he didn't care. Korse was right. Gerard had needed him at his most desperate moment, he'd called out for him, and Frank had not saved him. He had let him down and he would never be able to make amends. 

Gerard was gone. 

_'I'm so sorry, Gee.'_

Frank lowered his head, tried to hide his shame and guilt.

Korse smiled satisfactorily.

_'Another one broken.'_

A beeping sound suddenly went off, causing them both to start in surprise.

Korse, still smirking, pressed a button on his wrist.

“Korse.”

A woman's voice, cold and harsh, came through the communicator.

_“It's me, Korse. You should have been back here by now. What is happening?”_

Frank saw Korse grimace. “I've had a change of plan.”

_“Explain.”_

“Party Poison is dead.”

Frank felt like he'd be stabbed in the gut. He couldn't help but react to those words, and Korse noticed. He smiled evilly. Frank closed his eyes.

_“That is unacceptable, Korse. I am prepared for scanning and programming here. Why did you kill him?”_

“I had no choice,” he replied. “He tried to escape.”

_“So, you have wasted my time, and the time of many other very busy men and women for nothing, Korse?”_

Frank could see Korse was squirming. He liked it. Whoever this woman was, she was clearly in charge.

“Your effort was not wasted,” he told her. “I have captured another Killjoy. I'm bringing him back to the city now.”

She still did not sound very impressed.

_“And I suppose you need time to break this one too?”_

Korse smiled at that. “He's already broken.”

There was a pause.

_“Very well. But stay where you are. We will come to you, I will leave at once myself.”_

“If you are sure?”

 _“I am. And Korse, use the prototype to mark the rebel. We don't want to lose this one too, do we?”_ She sounded exasperated. _“Remember it is more than just a torture device, please. It did cost millions to produce, after all.”_

Frank glanced up. _Mark him?_ He suddenly felt even more nervous.

Korse nodded. “Yes Ma'am.”

He cancelled the call, and then turned his attention back to Frank.

“You are fortunate, Frank.” He smirked. “The Controller herself is on her way to greet you.”

“Oh yeah?” Frank retorted. “Sounded more like she doesn't trust you, to me.” 

Korse glared. “Like your late, lamented leader, you need to learn when to be quiet, Fun Ghoul.” 

Frank bristled. “Is that right? Well, I'm a slow learner.”

Korse chuckled at that.

“I know you were listening intently to the conversation, Killjoy. You heard her mention the prototype I assume?”

Frank felt his blood run cold, although he didn't know why. He nodded.

“Aren't you curious?” Korse inquired, his eyebrow raised.

“Not really.”

“No?” Korse was enjoying himself again. “Gerard was very well-acquainted with it.”

Still smiling, he pulled out the dart shooter and showed it to Frank.

Gerard's murder weapon.

Frank backed away. Korse grabbed him round the throat, and leered down at him. No matter how hard Frank struggled, he couldn't release Korse's hold on him.

“I don't wish to waste any darts on you, Killjoy. I used this repeatedly on your boyfriend before that last hit, and there are only five shots remaining. But I need you compliant and on your best behaviour for the Controller, so I am afraid this is a necessity.”

He grabbed Frank roughly by his arm and injected a dart straight into his temple. Frank, staring at him angrily, wrested his arm away and immediately brought a shaky hand up to his forehead.

“What have you done?” He whispered.

“Only level three,” Korse smiled. “But it should do the trick.”

Frank was scared.

What was happening?

And then, the agony hit him.

Frank had never felt anything like it. His body was on fire, he had no control, his head was going to explode. He was on the floor, he was sure, but he didn't know how long for. He was writhing, screaming, his throat hurt. He was pleading, begging for him to make it stop, to let him go. He'd do anything to stop the pain.

And then, as quickly as it had come, it was fading.

Korse was standing over him, amused.

“That was as satisfying as watching Gerard's torture, Frank.” He purred. “I thank you for the show.”

Frank lay at his feet, gasping. He was desperately trying to breathe. He had never hurt so much in his life.

But he was not thinking about his pain, or the fate awaiting him. All his thoughts were for Gerard, and the horrific realisation that Gerard had gone through exactly the same torment, many times. And he had been scared and alone.

Once again, Frank's heart broke for Gerard.

_'I'm sorry I didn't save you from him, Gee. Please forgive me.'_

“Time for us to go, Fun Ghoul,” Korse said simply, unmoved by his prisoner's obvious agony. “You have an appointment with a lady. Wouldn't do to keep her waiting, would it?” 

Frank whimpered. How was he going to get out of this?

Korse smirked at him. He had decided to abandon his plans for Kobra Kid and Jet Star. They could wait. One Killjoy at a time. 

He reached out for Frank.

Frank knew he had one chance, or it was all over. He could almost imagine Gerard beside him, willing him on as he made his move. Glancing down, he saw a large, very sharp, shard of glass shining in the sun light. He didn't hesitate. He grabbed the shard, felt it cut into his hand, and with a shout of fury, plunged it down, straight through Korse's boot and into his foot.

Korse howled. The sound was music to Frank's ears. He took his chance, and got to his feet as quickly as he could. He then punched Korse in the stomach twice. 

Korse was practically in shock from the torturous pain that had exploded in his foot. The unexpected pain had stunned him, and the agony had rendered him helpless. He could offer no resistance as Frank pushed him to his knees.

Frank gave him a grim smile as he felt inside Korse's jacket. He knew exactly what he was looking for, and he found it. His hand closed around the shooter gun. He held it up for Korse to see, and pressed ‘level 10’.

“Like I said,” Frank snarled; “It's your turn now. You fucking asshole.”

Then he injected a dart straight into Korse's neck. Korse stared at him, wide-eyed, and tried to pull away, but Frank held him tightly, watching with no emotion as the drug began to take hold.

Now, it was Korse's turn to scream.

He cried. He writhed. He clawed at the ground.

As Frank watched, it was no longer Korse he could see before him, lost in his torment. It was Gerard. It was his lover's screams he was hearing, it was his lover dying before him. Again.

Frank snapped. His face determined, he grabbed Korse again and continued to inject him, dart after dart, until the shooter was empty. Frank continued to press the trigger, hearing the clicks from the spent weapon. 

He then sat back on his haunches, and watched.

Korse's face contorted in agony, blood began to ooze from his wide, horrified eyes. His body spasmed and he was gripping his face, tearing off his own skin with his nails. He was screaming, shaking, dying horribly. Frank had never seen anyone in so much agony.

And he was glad.

Then Korse collapsed, shivered and laid still, his mouth still open, his face twisted in torment. It had only lasted seconds.

As Frank stared at that disturbing image, he was reminded of a horror movie he once watched with Gerard.

_“The Ring.” That was what Korse had looked like, almost. But this was far more horrifying. Frank had never seen anything like it in real life. Finally, in death, the bastard had found some originality._

Gerard would have appreciated the irony.

Frank leaned forward to check his enemy's pulse, to make absolutely sure. There was no sign of life.

He reached into Korse's pocket and pulled out two ray guns, first his own, and then Gerard's. He looked down at the yellow blaster for a second, and then placed it against his temple, taking a deep breath. 

It was all over. He'd done it. Korse was dead.

“For you, Gerard,” Frank whispered.

The Killjoy looked up sharply. He knew he didn't have long. Korse had given their position to the Co-Ordinator and she was on her way, no doubt along with a large squad of Dracs. Frank wasn't concerned, he wouldn't flee. What would be the point? He would be easily outnumbered and outmanoeuvred and even if he did try to escape in the Trans AM, where would he go? Not to the town, he'd be leading the Dracs right back to his fellow Killjoys, the Doc, and a lot of innocent people. No more people were going to die that day because of Better Living. Enough blood had already been spilt. 

So if returning to his friends was no longer an option, even if Frank did run, where would he go? He didn't want to be alone, surviving from day to day as best as he could, with no one to share what was left of his life with. He'd be just another lonely rebel, a wanderer, going from town to town, making no worthwhile connections because he couldn't face losing anyone else he loved; that was the future he could see. And he didn't want it.

No. Better to go out the way he and Gerard had always imagined. Fighting. 

Frank again checked through the prone Korse's pockets and soon found his quarry. He pulled out a small bag, opened it and took out a handful of Sensory Bombs. He looked at them carefully, noting all the different sizes. He glanced up quickly at a familiar sound. There were vehicles heading towards him. He stood, and searched through the dust. Sure enough, he saw a convoy of Transporters, moving quickly, and heading right for him. He knew each of the vehicles would carry a number of Dracs, perhaps squadrons of six per van?

Frank licked his lips. _Perfect. Let them come._ He could take a few more of the bastards out, thanks to Korse and his toys. He slipped the deadly balls into his pocket. He would wait for the best moment to launch his surprise attack and blow the whole fucking lot of them away. Even if that meant he would go with them, so be it. Talk about a blaze of glory. Gerard would be proud. 

Frank's eyes widened as he watched them near. Hell, maybe he could he could take out the Controller herself. The company itself would fall apart with both its leaders killed in one disastrous mission.

And Gerard would not have died in vain.

So, Frank crouched on the ground, his ray gun raised and ready, and he waited. Korse had declared him broken, and the Killjoys finished. 

Fun Ghoul would give them one hell of a surprise.

_“Frank!”_

Ghoul stopped. He glanced up. Impossible. He was only imagining his name being called, he had to be. Far too much sun. He ignored it.

_“Frankie, we're coming!”_

Right then. So he definitely wasn't hearing things. Frank turned around slowly, stared in complete shock. A van, Doctor Death's own, raced toward him, flying though the sand, and Kobra Kid hung out of open passenger side door, calling out to Frank desperately.

He waved a hand to acknowledge them. Mikey waved back.

Frank shook his head. They'd come for him.

Stupid bastards.

He looked hurriedly in the direction of the Draculoid convoy, it was still some ways off. Though they had mere minutes before the enemy would be upon them. Doctor Death had risked everything. For him.

The van came to a halt right beside him. He stared stupidly as three people jumped out and surged out at him. Kobra Kid and Jet Star both rushed to Frank, each taking his turn to embrace their friend. Doctor Death Defying hung back, his eyes locked on the dead body at Frank's feet. 

Ray and Mikey followed the Doctor's gaze, and their eyes widened in disbelief.

After a pause, Ray managed to speak first.

“You did it,” he muttered. “You fucking did it.”

Frank nodded dumbly. He felt numb.

“You shouldn't have come after me.” He began, “I didn't want-” Frank stopped talking abruptly when Ray, with a hiss of anger, backhanded him hard across the face, knocking him backwards. Frank raised a shaky hand to his face.

“I deserved that,” he accepted.

Ray shook his head, still angry. “Yes, you fucking did. What the hell were you thinking, Frank? Going after that bastard all on your own?”

Frank shrugged. “It worked didn't it?” He muttered.

Ray looked like he wanted to hit him again. “You got lucky, you smug bastard.”

“We have to leave now,” Defying snapped, his eyes locked on the small army of Dracs getting closer with every passing second. “They catch us, we'll all be dead men.” He fished in Korse's pockets, pulling out the key to the Trans AM. “Take your own car. I'll go back to the town and pull everyone else out.” He straightened and then glanced at Frank. “You've rid us all of one problem, Ghoul, but created a whole lot of fucking new ones. They will want revenge for this.”

“No one else was supposed to get involved with this,” he stated. “This was between me and Korse.”

“And you don't think I wanted revenge too for what he did to Gerard?” Mikey said quietly. “Or Ray?”

Frank didn't know what to say. “I'm sorry,” he offered.

Mikey was not ready to forgive. “That's not the worst of it, Frank. You raced off after Korse like a fucking tornado, to avenge my brother. How could you leave him at that moment? He needed you.”

Frank's cheeks were red. “How could I have helped him, Mikey? He was dead, I watched the Doc working on him and getting _nowhere._ How could I have helped? I saw my chance to go after Korse and I took it.”

Mikey glowered. “You shouldn't have-”

Frank couldn't contain his anger a moment longer. He grabbed Mikey's shirt, and pulled him close.

“Watch your fucking mouth, _Kid._ Gerard is _dead._ Gone. And now, thanks to me, he has _justice._ I knew him better than you fucking did. He needed me to kill that fucking bastard for him, that's what he'd have wanted from me.”

The voice came from behind them. Soft, strained, but unmistakable:

“And what the _fuck_ made you think that?”

Frank froze. He stayed perfectly still, not daring to speak, turn around and look in the direction of the voice, not daring to _breathe._

He had to be hearing things. Imagining the one thing he wanted more than anything. Gerard was _dead._

He glanced at Mikey. The younger Way was watching him, even smiling.

Ray put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“It's okay, Frank.” He said, softly.

And then, the voice came again. “Frank.”

Trembling uncontrollably, Frank slowly turned, his heart in his throat.

He gasped.

It was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen in his life.

Gerard leaned against Doctor Death's van, staring back at Frank. He looked terrible. Pale as a ghost, clearly in a lot of pain and very weak. But alive. The redhead was calm, but his eyes betrayed his emotions, wet, and shining.

Frank was moving before he even knew what he doing. Quick strides quickly turned into a run as he rushed toward his lover. When he reached Gerard, tears were streaming down his face. He didn't care. He watched Gerard trying to respond, trying to run to him in return. He frowned when he saw the other man stumble due to his broken ankle and various other injuries. Gerard moaned loudly from the sudden agony, and he lost his footing. Frank grabbed at him, to support him, to prevent him from crashing to the floor. Gerard did fall, but not to the ground. Instead, he fell straight into the open arms of his boyfriend.

Frank held him, sobbed into his hair, and held him as tightly as he could.

He wasn't going to let him go this time. 

They sank to the ground, exhausted and overcome by the emotion of being together again. Together, and safe.

“You're okay,” Frank whispered, and then repeated his words, like a mantra. “You're okay, you're okay...”

Gerard pulled back slightly, looking closely at Frank.

“What were you thinking?” He questioned. “You know better than this, Frankie.”

“I saw what he did...” He muttered, unable to find the words. “You weren't breathing... I thought...”

Gerard brought a shaky hand up to the younger man's face and gently caressed his cheek. “The Doc saved me,” he told him, and then added, quietly; “I thought you were dead, Frankie,” His voice was so weak, Frank had to strain to hear him. “They told me you'd gone after Korse alone...”

“I'm sorry,” Frank cut across him, guilt hitting him full-on. “I left you. I'm so fucking sorry, Gee.”

Gerard hugged him again, shushing him gently. And then, he moved closer, and found Frank's lips with his own, and they were suddenly kissing passionately. It didn't matter anymore who was watching.

There were gasps from behind them but they ignored everything but each other. Because only they mattered.

When they did pull apart, Gerard and Frank gazed at each other, realising exactly what they had just done, what they had just confirmed for everyone. They turned as one to look toward their fellow Killjoys. Mikey and Ray stared back. And then, their faces broke into big smiles. 

“What?” Ray asked, noting Frank and Gerard's quizzical looks. “You think you guys were ever quiet? We've known ages.”

Gerard glanced at Mikey. His brother nodded back, approvingly. “About time.”

The eldest of the group looked past his two friends and his eyes rested on the body Doctor Death now inspected, giving the Killjoys the privacy and time they needed. Korse was dead. He stared at Frank.

“You did it, Frankie.” He gripped his shoulder. “You fucking did it. It's over.”

“That bastard will never touch you again, Gee.” Frank paused, before reaching into his inside pocket and pulling out Gerard's ray gun. Gerard's eyes widened when he saw the weapon.

"Here," Frank whispered. "Yours, I believe?"

Gerard took the gun from him gratefully, running his thumb almost lovingly over the nozzle. He then smiled at his boyfriend.

"Thanks Frankie," he muttered.

"Shame I couldn't get you your jacket back too," Frank replied, staring out toward the desert.

Gerard glanced down at the dust at his feet. "It doesn't matter," he whispered. "It's just a jacket."

Doctor Death was suddenly away from Korse, urgency in his voice.

“Sorry people, but this reunion will have to wait;” He announced. “They're coming.”

Ray blinked. “Should we just leave the body like-”

Death Defying cut across him. “No time. Gotta go.”

Frank knew why. A convoy was on the way, and very soon, they would all be overrun with Dracs. Time to run. He waved Mikey and Ray over. They didn't need asking twice. A beat, and then they were upon them, embracing their best friends happily. Mikey clung to his brother as if his life depended on it.

“I'm sorry,” Mikey moaned. “I'm so sorry I left you there, Gee.”

“Nothing to be sorry for.” He replied at once.

Death Defying coughed, and Frank looked up.

“Take the Trans,” Death snapped, and tossed Frank the key, which the Killjoy caught with his right hand. “Go. I'm going back to the town to round up the others and check on the wounded. Just get out of here, all of you.”

He stole one more quick glance at Gerard, and then he made for his van

Suddenly, all four Killjoys were heading back to their car. Jet rushed off ahead to get the car running, while Kobra and Ghoul made slow progress behind him, supporting the limping Party Poison between them. 

Frank swallowed as he took in Gerard's injuries once more. Korse truly had tried to destroy him, in every way possible. He balled his hands into fists. He had to move past this, move past Korse. It was Gerard he needed to concentrate on now. The man needed him more than ever if he was ever to recover. Soon, they would be back at base with Gracie, safe and well.

Ray put his arm around Frank and held him close. He didn't need to speak.

They were all together again.

As Gerard reached his car, he ran a finger along the window. He hated the thought of that bastard in his car.

Korse.

Something stirred deep within him. He turned carefully, grimacing and glanced back at the broken corpse that had been Exterminator Korse.

He closed his eyes.

_The all consuming pain was fading, he was coming out of the torturous haze at last. He tried to move but he couldn't. Something was badly wrong. No. Korse. He could feel him, hear him, smell him. He was so close, on top of him, inside of him, claiming him._

_It hurts. Please. It hurts._

_Korse was laughing._

_“Feel that?” He whispered. “Do you feel me, Gerard?”_

“Gerard?”

Gerard's eyes snapped open.

Frank was standing beside him, holding his hand. He watched him with concern. “You okay?”

Gerard gave himself a shake.

“Sure,” he replied. “We'll meet up with the others at the base.” He grimaced, gasped and grabbed at his chest. Mikey was beside him in an instant.

“Gerard?”

“I'm alright, Kobra.” Gerard snapped. A coldness spread across his face. “No more using real names. We need to get this show back on the road. Got that?”

Mikey nodded grimly.

Gerard addressed Ray next. “You driving, Jet?”

Ray nodded. He exchanged a glance with Frank quickly and then gestured for Mikey to help Gerard into the car. Mikey reached out for Gerard, who pulled his arm away from his brother.

“I can manage!” He threw at him.

Mikey's face fell. 

“I know,” he said nervously. “But I just-”

“Get in the car, Kobra.”

Mikey didn't speak again. He simply obeyed.

“Let's go.” Gerard snapped to Frank.

Frank understood what this was all about. He hard the tremor in Gerard's voice, knew he was covering up just how much agony he was truly in. He was blocking it all out already.

As far as Frank was concerned, that was not healthy. Gerard had to try to face his ordeal or he'd never get past it.

Frank frowned. He told himself that it was still early. Gerard would feel better once he was back at the base. Everything would be okay now they had him back. Korse was dead and gone. He couldn't hurt them any more. 

It was over.

Wasn’t it? 

He caught Gerard's gaze as he got into the car. Frank saw no emotion there whatsoever.

Ray started the engine. All four Killjoys watched as Doctor Death climbed into his van, waved to them, and then pulled his door shut.

Frank shivered.

Dread had gripped him and was choking him so badly it was actually threatening to cut off his air supply. He was suddenly terrified.

He now knew only too well that this was _far_ from over.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope someone out there is enjoying this! I'll keep on posting 2 chapters a day...

Gerard grimaced as he tried to get comfortable in the back of the car but it was impossible, everything hurt. His rib was screaming at him, and his broken ankle was burning intensely. Even just sitting was agonising, thanks to the searing pain in his backside. He didn't want to think about why.

Never again did he ever want to think about _that._

The man, who had now reminded his friends on three separate occasions to refer to him only as Party Poison, let out an audible sigh, and laid his throbbing head against the support. He closed his eyes, trying to shut out the discomfort and gain himself some peace. He felt so tired, he was sure he could have slept for days. He could sense the gazes of the other Killjoys upon him and he wished they would stare some place else. He knew that they were deeply worried about him but he certainly didn't need their concern at that moment. What he really needed was simply to be left alone, to somehow try and digest exactly what had happened to him that day. He wanted time and patience, and the chance to recover from his injuries, and especially from his ordeal, but in his own way. He glanced to his left and saw that Mikey was watching him, obviously wanting to say something, probably to ask him again how he was “feeling”. Gerard knew only to well that he was going to get asked that particular antagonising question repeatedly, and for quite some time to come.

Until it drove him mad.

He frowned. He knew how this would go. People would not respect him any more. They would look on him with sympathy, treat him like a victim, to be handled with care. Because that was all he was now. Just another of Korse's unfortunate victims.

He wondered how long it would take people to work out he wanted to be left alone, and he certainly didn't want to talk to him about their “feelings.” He was pretty damned sure he would never be ready to open up to a single soul. His gaze finally met Mikey's, and his little brother gave him a small, nervous smile. Gerard gave him an exasperated glance, and then looked away from his brother, choosing to gaze out of the window instead. He heard Mikey let out a frustrated sigh, and he knew he was upsetting him, but he felt that that was unavoidable. He was probably worrying all of his friends more than he intended but how could he help it? He'd be back at the base soon enough, and then he could have some much needed quiet time, just him and his thoughts. He didn't need sympathy or understanding. He didn't need people to tiptoe around him as if on egg shells, scared he would break into a million pieces at any second. He knew he needed care and quickly, the pain he was experiencing was a constant reminder of that. But as soon as he felt better, he needed to be back out there, back in the Zones, doing what he was best at. 

He gritted his teeth as another wave of pain coursed through him. He balled his hands into fists. He would take revenge for what was done to him. Korse was gone, and Gerard was glad of it, but there were still plenty of Draculoids out there, needing to be taken out. He'd make every last one of them suffer for what Korse has put him through. And then, when enough Dracs and Scarecrows had died horribly at his hand, then he would go after Better Living Industries itself. No other innocent person was going to suffer because of that twisted Corporation. There would be no more inventions like torture devices that shoot drug darts into a person's arm. Gerard would see the company fall. He would tear the whole fucking corrupt company down, or he would die trying.

No matter what it took, Better Living would be finished. 

“Gerard?” He heard Frank whisper. “You alright?”

Gerard pursed his lips together, scowled, and brought a weary hand up to his forehead once again.

“'M fine, Ghoul.” He replied, none to pleasantly. He didn't meet his boyfriend's gaze. “And didn't I just tell you all to keep to the nicknames? It's Poison, okay?”

Frank and Ray exchanged glances. “Sure,” Frank replied. He returned to staring straight ahead, not daring to attempt any further conversation.

Silence reigned once more. Frank could tell that none of the Killjoys knew what to say, or what to do. They had no idea what was the best action to take to help their leader. Not of them had any experience in dealing with someone who had endured what Gerard had that day. Frank couldn't blame him for blocking all those horrors out. He had just got him back, all Ghoul knew knew was that he was just so fucking relieved to have him there alive. Anything they had to face in the future, they could do it together. All of them could face it. They were a team, that's what they did. He stole another glance at Gerard, who had returned his attention to the never ending desert they were driving across. Frank saw the quiver in Gerard's lips, could see the tears he was fighting to contain, always threatening to spill. But mostly, he saw the shield his boyfriend had put up around himself, the protection he had placed there. It would be sometime before Gerard could allow anyone through that barrier. 

Frank could wait. However long it took.

They drove on, the uncomfortable atmosphere becoming almost unbearable. Gerard refused to look at his fellow Killjoys, and none of them tried to speak to him again. They could all sense the battle raging within their leader. It was a constant fight just to prevent himself from breaking down. 

Party Poison was still far to proud to allow them to see him crumble. And Frank could not blame him. He knew he would be exactly the same if he had faced the same.

Frank swallowed. He wish to God that he had. Anything to spare Gerard all of that suffering.

All he could do was be there for him. Gerard would need him when the time was ready. And Frank could wait.

A second passed, and then Mikey finally cleared his throat.

“Will the Doc meet us back at base?” He asked.

Ray nodded. “Yeah, he was going back to the town to round up everyone else, and I guess to help the towners.” He grimaced. “So many of that town came good for us, fought back against the Dracs and Korse, just to help get Party out of there. Problem with that though is that when the corporation find out, they'll come down on that town, all ray guns blazing. The Doc's gotta make sure their defended properly.”

“How many?” Gerard suddenly whispered. Three pairs of eyes were quickly on him once more.

“Sorry, Gee?” Mikey questioned.

Gerard flinched, but this time, he let his brother's slip pass by without comment.

“How many towners and rebels did we lose?” He continued. “How many people died in that place today?” He paused, before adding, so softly; “Because of me?”

They didn't know how to respond. 

Finally, Ray answered, gently.

“Lots,” he replied, quite truthfully. He saw no point in lying. Party Poison could always see right through any untruths anyway, and it didn't seem like he wanted to be protected or handled with kid gloves anyway. He needed them to be honest. “There were bodies everywhere.” Ray's hands tightened on the steering wheel and his voice became choked. “They lost a lot of numbers too, though. And Korse, obviously. Those people in that town didn't die in vain, Party. We'd have made a big dent in those BL/I bastard's plans today. This wasn't just about saving you. This was a big day for us all.” He stared into the rear view mirror, catching Party's gaze. “Don't blame yourself, Gerard.”

Gerard closed his eyes.

“Why not?” He muttered, more to himself.

Another memory flashed before his eyes. He saw three men sprawled on the ground, their faces turned towards him, eyes wide and staring. But seeing nothing.

Dead.

And he saw Korse smirking, and saw the metal pole held high above his head, laughing as he prepared to swing it down toward his helpless foe...

Gerard's eyes shot open and he let out a low moan.

“ _Do you know, Gerard?” The cruel man purred, matter-of-factly. “Eventually, it's time for everyone to stop running_.”

“Gee?” A quiet voice spoke up, bringing the red haired man out of his haze. “Are you okay?”

With a sigh, Gerard turned and looked over at Mikey, who was watching him with a pained expression. The older brother was about to give the younger another stern telling off when he saw the fear in the other's eyes and he paused. 

He could see how scared Mikey was. Gerard couldn't blame him. It had been a nightmare period for all of them, not just for him.

He leaned closer to Mikey, and placed a hand on his leg. “I'm sorry, Mikes. I shouldn't have snapped at you. I'm just tired, and hurting. It's been a long day, you know?” He followed his pitiful attempt at a joke with a unconvincing smile. “I just need a rest back at the base,” he added. “I'll be fine.”

Mikey gave him a grateful nod. Gerard held his brother's gaze for a few moments longer, and then he looked away. For a split second, he caught Frank looking at him in the mirror again. Gerard stared back, trying to keep his face neutral. He wanted to hide away from his boyfriend, and the concern radiating from him. He didn't want Frank to know just how much turmoil he was truly in. Pain, fear, guilt, distress, hate. Every emotion was coursing through him, wrapping itself around his throat and choking him, but he had to appear strong. Somehow, he had to hold it together.

He would _not_ let Korse win.

Forcing his gaze away from Frank, he returned to looking out of the window. He hoped they didn't notice as one solitary tear made its way slowly down his face.

Gerard froze. Shit. No, it was impossible. 

Korse. Standing there. Staring at him, grinning, waiting for him.

Gerard closed his eyes tightly. 

_Please._

Even dead, Korse would not let him be. He still wanted him.

And he was going to hurt him again.

 _'He's dead,'_ Gerard told himself sternly. _'He's not gonna come for you. He's gone.'_

Gerard opened his eyes again. Korse had disappeared. His mind was playing tricks on him. That was all it was.

Suddenly, he felt a new wave of pain enveloping him. He gasped.

He knew that agony. Remembered it only to well. As if he could ever forget.

“ _I've waited a long time to watch you break, my friend. You are mine.” Korse was pulling him closer holding him once more by his arm, and then he ran his finger down his cheek, smiling evilly. “Scream for me now, baby_.” 

Gerard whimpered. “No.”

“Gerard,” Frank said, at once. “What's wrong?”

Gerard didn't hear him. All he could see or hear was Korse. Korse laughing at him, reaching for him, torturing him.

Thrusting inside of him.

“Please,” he moaned. “Don't hurt me again!”

The remaining Killjoys stared at each other, horror-struck. What the fuck were they supposed to do now? Was this a fit? A delayed reaction?

An overdose?

Gerard screamed loudly as the pain seized him further, and he wrapped his arms around himself in terror.

He crumpled, falling forwards, unaware the Mikey had leaped to his side, catching him, preventing him from bashing his head on the seat in front of him.

“ _Fuck!_ ” Mikey exclaimed. “Gerard, can you hear me?

Gerard gave no response. He couldn't. He wasn't even aware that the Killjoys were there. Everything hurt. How did Korse do it? How did he inject him with that damned dart again? How did he get to him? 

Mikey had hold of his brother, trying desperately to comfort him, to get through to him somehow. It was useless.

“What the fuck is wrong with him?” Frank demanded, unable to conceal the terror in his tone.

“I don't know!” Mikey looked up with pleading eyes. “Pull over Ray!”

Ray was panicked. “But-”

“ _Just fucking pull over!_ ”

XXX

The woman stood, two Draculoids on either side, another behind them, staring down at Korse's body. Her expression was emotionless, her face cold and lifeless. 

She watched him for a moment longer, then straightened and turned to the nearest Draculoid.

“What happened here?” She demanded.

“The Exterminator was murdered, Ma'am.”

She threw the Draculoid a withering look. “I can see that, idiot.” She clearly was fighting, and failing, to contain her temper. “Who killed him?”

“One of the rebels.”

“Which one?”

“The Killjoy known as Fun Ghoul.”

Her face darkened. “Killjoys,” she muttered. “Always the Killjoys.”

She stared down again at Korse's body. 

“How did Korse die?”

“Fun Ghoul took the prototype and used it on the Exterminator.”

The Coordinator blinked. A moment passed as the draculoid waited for her to address it again. Then, she actually smirked. “Taking his own weapon from him,” she mused. “Korse was a fool. He got what he deserved.” She leaned down and placed two fingers at the dead man's throat. “His heart stopped beating some minutes ago. We have little time. Get him back to the City and straight into surgery. Move.”

With a uncaring jerk of her head, she turned away from her fallen general as two Dracs scurried to obey her while one stayed close by, waiting for her further instructions. Frowning, she walked further up the road, staring at the Trans AM speeding away in the distance. She glowered, her arms crossed across her chest. “How many Killjoys escaped?”

“All of them,” came the monotonous reply.

“All three of them?” She snapped, her eyes narrowing.

“Four, ma'am.”

She stayed perfectly still. “I was informed that the leader, Party Poison, was killed.”

The Drac shook its head. “He survived.”

Her eyes flamed. “So,” she stated; “The rebels rescue plans seems to have been entirely successful.” She trembled slightly as rage threatened to engulf her. “How they must be celebrating.”

“Should we pursue the Killjoys, ma'am?” The Drac offered. “They are in the open, easy to reach, even with our lesser numbers. We can destroy them now for you.”

The sound of screeching brakes brought the Coordinator and the Drac's attentions back to the Trans AM and they watched as the car came to a sudden and noisy halt. The car doors swung open and they could make out the unmistakable noise of agonising cries as three of the Killjoys exited the car and then rushed to assist the fourth, who fell to the ground, and was screaming in clear agony. His fellow gang members appeared to be locked in a furious panicked conversation and obviously had no idea what to do to relieve his agony. 

The Co-Ordinator smiled knowingly.

“Just as expected. I was aware that Korse had tested the drug on the rebel Poison repeatedly. I was certain there would be some very unpleasant side effects.” She shrugged. “Well, unpleasant for the subject. I would be very amused and interested to see his suffering up close.” She placed a finger on her face and absent-mindedly tapped her cheek. “A shame Korse could not manage to bring the rebel to me. It would have been fascinating to discover what reaction an overdose to the new drug would have.” She spoke as if she was discussing a lab rat, not a man. “The pain must be _torturous_.”

“Ma'am, they will escape...” The Drac began but she held up a hand to stop it.

“They are going nowhere. I have plans for them all.” She narrowed her eyes as she watched one Killjoy trying to calm another, who was shouting back at him with yells she could not make out, while the third sat beside their fallen comrade, trying to quieten him down, and failing miserably. “One is currently experiencing a horrific reaction due to overdosing on a drug that he should be dead from, another is marked. They aren't going anywhere. They haven't even begun to suffer yet for all the trouble they have caused to me.” A cold smile spread across her lips. “Their precious Broadcaster though, he is another matter altogether. He must be dealt with while we have the opportunity.” She ran a hand through her hair as the wind blew sand in her face. “We must tread carefully though. He is presently located in the town, correct?”

“Yes ma'am.”

She frowned as she stared at the town in question thoughtfully.

“And what of the townsfolk? Were their memories wiped?”

“No, ma'am.”

She cursed Korse under her breath. “That fool would allow this Corporation to fall if it meant he won his private little war with those rebels!” She clicked her fingers. “We must not take any action against the Broadcaster now then. This town is close to the City and is a useful base for us. The Towners memories must be cleaned of all of this before we can take any action against the rebel leader. Send a party of Dracs to the town to see it done.” She turned her back. “I will return to the city and prepare for the next wave.” She waved a hand. “I leave you in charge, commander.”

“Ma'am,” it said quickly, “I have more to report.”

She sighed. “Well?”

“Many of the townsfolk supported the Killjoys and the rest of the rebels, Ma'am. They rose up against us, against Exterminator Korse.”

Again, the Coordinator showed no emotion except in her eyes, which were flashing. She closed her eyes for a second, considering. When she opened them again, the fire had faded but her face was set. 

“Idiots,” she snapped. “We offer these morons everything, give them easy lives without having to look back on the dark times and they think they can just turn on Better Living, turn on me?” She took a step forward. “Contact the City and instruct them that a 'Copter is to be sent,” she instructed. “And you will need to inform our operative of the change to our plans,” she continued. “I want that town purged at once, do you hear me? Total destruction. Nothing and no one is to remain once we are finished.” Her eyes blazed. “See to it.”

The Drac bowed it's head obediently. “Yes, Ma'am. Of course.”

And then it was gone, leaving her alone, to stare furiously at the town. “They think they can support rebel scum, and not pay any price? They will regret their choice. And I will also be sending a message to the next town who defy me, and reject the better life that I have offered them.”

She looked towards the Killjoys again, and nodded satisfactorily.

“And now, these traitors get to die for their beloved heroes cause.” A cold smile. “And the best part is that those very heroes get to watch their demise.” She chuckled. 

“So much for individuality.”

XXX

Gerard was on his knees by the car, his hands placed on either side of his head. He was writhing, and clearly in complete agony. Frank was perched beside him, too afraid to touch him, and with no idea of how to even start helping him. Mikey was close by, a hand over his mouth, every inch of him shaking in fear for his brother. Ray was by the car, his communicator in his hand, as he desperately tried to contact Doctor Death, for what must have been the twentieth time,

None of the Killjoys knew what was happening or how to fight back. Their leader was being tortured by an unseen assailant right before their eyes and all they could do was watch helplessly. 

“What do we do?” Mikey snapped to Frank, his voice breaking in despair.

“I don't know,” Frank shot back. “I just don't know, Mikey.”

“Is he dying?”

“Don't say that!”

Mikey scowled. “Why not? Look at him! He's dying, isn't he?”

Unable to answer, mainly because the thought of losing Gerard now, after everything, was incomprehensible to Frank, the brunette turned instead to Ray.

“Still out of range?”

“Yeah,” Ray said grimly. “Or they are blocking the signal. Either way, I can't get through to the Doc.”

Frank trembled. “Then what the fuck do we do?”

“Why don't we try fucking praying?” Mikey threw in. 

Frank turned on him.

“Look, _Kid_ , why don't you just-”.

“Guys!” Ray hissed, a hand raised to silence them both. “Just shut the fuck up! Look!”

They both paused, still glaring at one another, to look in the direction Ray had pointed. And gaped. 

A shape was heading towards them, roaring out of the dust and the smoke. As it drew nearer, they could see it was a motorbike and that it was making straight for them. 

“What the...?” Mikey whispered.

Ray shushed him with a wave of his hand, watching nervously as the motorbike came ever closer.

It growled to a halt mere meters away from them and the rider seemed to stare at the Killjoys before making his move. The man dismounted from his motorcycle slowly and then stepped towards them, not saying a word. He looked towards the wretched man on the ground and then pointedly made straight for Gerard but only to be stopped in his tracks when three ray guns were suddenly being aimed directly at him. 

“Who the fuck are you?” Frank stormed. “What do you want?”

The man actually chuckled.

“Nice to see you too, Frankie.”

Frank stared.

The rider hesitated for a second longer, then sighed and shook his head in frustration. Apparently no longer fazed by the guns pointing at his head, he carefully took off his helmet, tossing his long hair back behind his ears, and then glared at the three shocked men all staring at him in disbelief.

There was a low but audible gasp.

The Killjoys were actually lost for words as they stared at a man they hadn't seen for years. Not since the wars.

They had believed him to be dead but here he was, right there, standing a few feet away from them with a very familiar scowl on his face.

Ray finally recovered first.

“Bert?” He whispered, hardly believing his eyes. _“How the fuck did you-”._

“Hey guys,” Bert replied, cutting across him. “Long time no see.”

He glanced over at Gerard, who was barely moving behind them.

Bert's face darkened. Slipping his hand into the inside of his jacket, he pulled out a small wallet filled with containers and needles. He held them up for the Killjoys to see, and then raised a questioning eyebrow.

“So, do you wanna carry on fucking staring at me?” He snarled. “Or do you want me to get on and save Gerard's worthless life?”

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

The three Killjoys all stood facing Bert, staring at him in stunned silence. They didn't speak, but neither did they lower their guns. Bert glared back at them, clearly not wanting to risk moving to where Gerard lay, still writhing in uncontrollable agony, while there were three ray guns all pointing at his face.

Bert, his face red, fixed each one of them with a stony, frustrated glare.

"So?" He barked, his hands raised in mock surrender. “This is actually gonna happen? You really are gonna just let him die?” His eyes flashed. “And to think, I thought you all adored you're precious leader?”

Mikey flinched, his face displaying his anger as he took a careful step forward.

“I don't know what you think you are doing here,” he replied, his eyes narrowing. “But I don't want you going any where near my brother, you bastard.” His finger tightened on his trigger. “So, why don't you turn the fuck around and get the hell out of here?”

Bert raised an eyebrow. “Love to, Mikes, trust me.” He replied, and pursed his lips together when he watched a new rage spreading across Mikey's face at the use of his pet name. “But no can do.”

“Gerard calls me that,” Mikey snapped in response, his voice trembling. “ _Only_ Gerard.”

“That's real sweet,” Bert threw back. “I guess, in that case, no one will ever get to call you it again.” He jerked his head toward Gerard, whose movements had grown weaker, and he was now laying still, gasping for breath. Only the tiny whimpers he let out told the others that he was still conscious. Bert sighed loudly, and then stepped forward, so Mikey's gun was now touching his chest. “You may seem happy enough to let him die,” Bert hissed, “Just because of your childish problem with me.”

“Childish?” Mikey echoed. 

“That's your issue, Kobra,” Bert continued, disregarding Mikey's comment. “But I made a promise to the Doc, you see, and I'm gonna honour that promise. With or without your consent. Now, it's your call. So, are you gonna get out of my way, or not?”

Mikey was trembling. It was taking every ounce of the younger Way's self control not to blow Bert away where he stood. “I gave him my word,” he said, his eyes not leaving Bert's. “After what you did-”

“That's in the past.” Bert snapped. He glanced over at Frank and Ray, who were watching the exchange closely. Suddenly, there was a weariness to Bert's tone, as he seemed to change tack. “We have seconds left,” he beseeched Mikey. “For Fuck’s sake, just let me help him!”

Mikey didn't move. He shook his head stubbornly. Frank suddenly appeared at his side, took a hold of Mikey's gun and gently pushed it down.

“Let him through, Mikey.” He muttered.

Mikey was still in a quandary. “Frank, you don't-” 

Frank gritted his teeth. “I can't lose him.”

Mikey closed his eyes.

Frank searched the other man's face, trying to understand what was going through his head. Mikey desperately did not want Bert McCracken anywhere near his brother, even if the result would mean Gerard's death. And although Frank didn't know Mikey's reasons for sure, he had a pretty good idea and, any normal day, he would have kicked the shit out of Bert for going within five miles of Gerard. But this was definitely not any normal day. Frank had already watched Gerard die once; he wasn't about to stand by and let it happen again.

“Mikey,” Frank whispered. “We have to let Bert help him.”

And, in the next moment, Frank was amazed at how incredibly young Mikey looked. “But he hurt him,” he hissed, a trembling hand held up, covering his eyes. “You didn't see what he did to him that night. The bruises-”

Bert swore loudly. “Ancient history!” He exclaimed.

Frank ignored Bert, and concentrated only on Mikey.

“Gerard is going to die if we don't do something, Mike.” He said carefully, though his heart broke with every word. “You got any better suggestions?”

“He's right, Mikey.” Ray agreed, quietly, now kneeling beside Gerard, trying to comfort his friend any way he could from the violent tremors once again taking hold. He had taken off his jacket and had placed it over the trembling man. “We've got no choice.” He lowered his voice further. “Gerard will understand why you broke your promise.”

“I've already let him down enough today,” Mikey moaned, burying his face into his hands. “I let Korse hurt him-”

“No, you didn't.” Ray said hurriedly, one eye on Gerard.

“Time's nearly up.” Bert announced. “This is fucking _crazy._ You want him to die, I'll leave and you guys get to bury him. But if you do actually still want your fucking big brother on this motherfucking planet, Michael, then get the _fuck_ out of my way.”

Mikey gritted his teeth, and gave Bert a look of pure hatred. He glanced at his brother once more, lying in Ray's arms, hardly moving and he made up his mind: the others were right, of course they were. He had no choice. He just hoped Gerard would forgive him. He could still hear his brother's words to him, said so long ago, in what now felt like a different lifetime:

_“Don't let him near me ever again, Mikey. No matter what. Promise me.”_

Mikey closed his eyes, and stepped out of the way, leaving Bert's path to his brother clear.

There was a ghost of a smirk on Bert's lips as he rushed past Mikey, and fell to his knees at Gerard's side. Giving Ray a concerned look, Bert then leaned closer to Gerard, placed a hand on the twitching man's shoulder, and then frowned.

“Do we know what was used on him?” Bert enquired.

“Some kind of torture drug,” Ray replied. “We don't know anything else-”

“It's a new weapon,” Frank added. “It was used on me too.” Frank could feel Ray's annoyance and he swallowed uncomfortably. He knew he should never have rushed off after Korse alone. He and Gerard could both be dead now, _should_ both be dead. And for what? Revenge on Korse? It didn't matter that Frank had won, that he had killed Korse - he had shown little respect for Ray when he had hit him and ignored his pleas. Frank had been stupid, and he would make it up to Ray and Mikey somehow. He addressed Bert again. “It hurt so much, it felt like I was on fire, like I was being stabbed again and again. I could feel my heart bursting under the pressure. My body just shut down, it wanted to give in.”

Bert nodded. “I've heard about this new prototype Better Living have produced. And if that is what has been used on Gerard, then he's lucky to be fucking alive.” He looked towards Frank again. “You both are.”

“Getting that,” Frank said quietly.

Bert put his hand on Gerard's forehead. “He's burning up,” he whispered, more to himself. “He's had so many doses, this is a fucking nasty overdose.” He felt inside his pocket and pulled out a shooter gun. Frank paled when he saw it. Bert instantly moved the gun to Gerard's bare arm.

“What the hell are you doing?” Mikey snarled.

“I have to inject him with a drug to work against what Korse used,” Bert snapped. “It will save his life and keep him until we can get him to the base and the doctors there can work on him.” He glared. “Or would you prefer me not to try?”  

Mikey didn't argue again. But he couldn't help but flinch as Bert held the gun against his brother's flesh.

Gerard whimpered, feeling the sting of the needle against his arm. As Bert injected the drug into him, the red-haired man gasped, and opened his eyes. His eyes widened as he stared at Bert, and then at the shooter gun in his hands. And then he began to scream. He thrashed his body around violently, and yelled his panic, trying to move, to get away from Bert and the torture he obviously assumed was on the way. Frank and Ray scrambled forward to hold Gerard down, to comfort him any way they could, but their actions only managed to scare the stricken man more. Mikey sat back on his haunches, tears streaming down his face, and unable to watch the ordeal his brother was suffering.

“Please,” Gerard whimpered. “No more. I'll do whatever you say. Please.”

Bert grabbed his arms, pinning him as gently as he could. “Gerard,” he said, calmly, his lips against the other man's ear. “It's okay. Just sleep now. You're okay.”

Gerard gazed at him, and then, his movements lessened as his body began to shut down. Within moments, he had stopped shouting and writhing, and he was sleeping soundlessly.

Once they were satisfied that Gerard was in a deep sleep and not about to panic again, Ray and Frank released their holds. 

Mikey took Gerard's hand, and held on tightly.

“Will he be okay?” He asked, shakily.

Bert let out a long, nervous breath. “He needs serious rest,” he told the other Killjoys. “He'll sleep for ages now, at least 24 hours. The base doctors can give him the care he needs but when he wakes up and you guys leave, he'll still need a dose of this drug every two hours for the next seven days. He's in for a lot of pain. The torture drug he was given, its taken hold of him, and it’s still flowing through his veins. He'd die without this medicine. It’s a miracle he's alive at all.”

Mikey swallowed hard.

“The whole fucking company will pay for what they did to him,” he growled.

Bert gave him a condescending look. “What you gonna do? Go after every Drac, every Crow?”

“If that is what it takes.”

Frank eyed Bert. “Korse is dead.”

Bert looked back at him, his face expressionless. “So I heard. Big blow for the company, big victory for us.”

Frank shrugged. “I killed him for Gerard.”

“Yeah,” Bert replied, quietly. “Well, I'm grateful too. I’ve had my own run-ins with Korse.”

Ray nodded. “The bastard deserved to die.”

Bert stared into space. 

The others watched him. Something was wrong. Frank opened his mouth to put forward the question they all wanted to ask, but Bert cut across him

“We need to get Gerard back to base now. I'll come with you and keep an eye on him.”

Mikey snorted. “That's heart-warming, Bert. So, just how long have you been a nurse?”

At that, Bert rounded on Mikey. He had clearly heard enough.

“Since I had to sit and watch all my friends die one day. Witnessing something like that tends to change a man. I decided I wouldn't lose anyone else. So, I learned to save lives instead of taking them.” He gripped Mikey's wrist and squeezed. The younger man gasped in discomfort. Bert glared daggers at him as he added, “You should try it, Mikey.”

Mikey stared back at Bert, momentarily lost for words.

Ray and Frank exchanged glances. 

“Friends?” Frank asked. “Who...”

Bert turned his back on all three of the Killjoys and began to walk over to his waiting motorcycle.

“Get Gerard back to base,” he repeated. “I'll meet you there. A little friend of yours was desperately wanting news of you when I left.” He paused. “Annoying kid.”

“Grace!” Mikey exclaimed, at once. “Is she okay?”

“I guess,” came the unconcerned reply. “I wasn't that bothered, to tell you the truth.”

“Nice,” Ray muttered.

Bert swung his leg over his bike and clambered onto it. “Not my problem,” he retorted.

“What is your problem, Bert?” Frank asked quietly. “What happened to you? Where are the other guys? And why did you come back?”

Bert quickly pulled on his helmet. “Well,” he answered coldly. “None of that is really your fucking business is it, Frankie?”

“If it's to do with Gerard, yes, it's my business.” Frank threw back.

Bert stuck his middle finger up to Frank, who seethed in response.

“See you back there, boys,” Bert taunted. “Can't wait to hang out more with you guys. Especially Gerard. I just can't wait to-”

Bert broke off abruptly. He looked up.

Then, they all heard it. There was a rumbling noise coming from above, and it sounded like thunder. The Killjoys looked to each other, concern spreading across their faces. The noise was getting louder. They all looked at the sky and froze. Two helicopters were flying directly towards them. They stared, unable to look away, too thrown to move.

“It’s BLI!” Bert shouted. “Take cover!”

The Killjoys jumped to obey, all throwing themselves out of harm’s way, getting behind the Trans AM. Frank leaped for Gerard, pulling at the prone man's arms.

“Help me!” He yelled. “We gotta get Gerard out of here now!”

Mikey and Ray scrambled to get closer but Bert didn't move. He was watching the helicopters, apparently transfixed, his ray gun at the ready.

But he didn't fire a shot. And it soon became clear why when the helicopters flew straight over their heads, taking no notice of any of the men on the ground. As the four men watched the flying vehicle's progress, open-mouthed, it dawned on all of them at the same time what the helicopters actual target was.

“The town,” Frank yelled over the sound of the engines. “They are making for the town.”

And as they all watched, horror struck, the helicopters commenced their attack on the town that had aided the rebels. The helicopters bombed the buildings, and within seconds explosions and fire engulfed the town. Then the screaming started. 

Bert came alive first. He started his motorcycle.

“You four have to get out of here,” he snapped, jerking his head in Gerard's direction. “Get him to safety.”

Ray moved forward. “I'll come with you-”

Bert shook his head. “Sorry Toro. You gotta stay together. Doc's orders.”

Ray gestured desperately. “We can't just leave here. The Doc-”

“Yes you can,” Bert interrupted. “Get Gerard back to base. If you don't he will die! Get him out of here. I'll find the Doc. I'll get him out of there. Trust me.” 

They were deafened by the sound of a huge explosion. People were running out of the town in all directions, and the Killjoys swore loudly when they saw them being picked off by hordes of waiting Dracs, one by one.

“Where the fuck did the Dracs come from?” Frank exclaimed. 

Bert shrugged. “Couldn't care less.” He nodded to Frank. “You're in charge, Iero. You're Gerard's second-in-command, right?”

Frank pulled a shaky hand through his hair. “I guess.”

“Then do your job. Keep you team safe.” He lowered his voice. “Like I should have done.”

And with that, Bert rode off, leaving the Killjoys to gaze after him, stunned by the recent events.

“What now?” Mikey snapped.

Ray spun round. “We do as Bert said, we get Gerard out of here. Those Dracs come for us, we're sitting ducks.”

“Why aren't they coming after us?” Mikey wondered. 

“I have no idea,” Ray replied quickly. He looked toward Frank, who was struggling to drag the still unconscious Gerard toward the Trans AM. Ray pushed Mikey in their direction and they helped to scoop Gerard up and carry him to the car. “We gotta stick together, Mikey. Bert was right about that at least. We are stronger together and trust me, after this, people will need us to be strong.”

“But the Doc, all the people who helped us. We can't just run-”

“We don't go, Gerard dies.” Ray told him. “And you know we can't do this without him.”

Mikey looked over at the wrecked town, and didn't argue again. He ran over to the Trans AM, opened the passenger door and climbed in, without another word. He stared at the town from inside the car, anguish clear in his eyes.

“I'm sorry, Summer.” he muttered.

He was glad none of the other guys heard him.

Frank and Ray helped Gerard into the back on the car. Once he was safely inside, Frank, with one last glance of terror to Ray, handed the other Killjoy his jacket back. Ray took it, and returned the look, as Frank slipped into the motor vehicle beside his boyfriend. He put his arm around Gerard, and pulled him close.

Frank let out a low sob as he, Ray and Mikey all stared at the burning town in front of them, all thinking the same ominous thing. Their concerns were for their friends: Doctor Death, Bert and all the other rebels that went running into that city to aid the townsfolk. And for the townsfolk themselves, who were now paying the ultimate price for wanting to help their leader, for wanting to save Gerard. 

Ray threw the car into first gear, swung the car around and drove off, tearing along the desert as quickly as he possibly could, trying to put the horrible image behind them.

And then, as the screams became less clear, the pain became too much for Mikey who began to cry softly. Frank's grip on the sleeping Gerard tightened as he continued to gaze at the town in shocked silence. 

XXX

Gerard opened his eyes, wincing, as he grew accustomed to the bright lights. He moaned, and then stretched. He moaned. Everything hurt. He looked down and saw his chest was bandaged. He remembered his rib cracking from Korse’s frenzied attack on him and he shuddered. Somebody had attempted to take care of his injuries and had done a pretty decent job, it seemed. As he lay there, it dawned on Gerard that he was lying in a bed. Was he in hospital? What had happened? 

 

He glanced to his right, and saw Frank sitting asleep in a chair beside him, his head thrown back, and his mouth wide open.

Gerard couldn't help but smile fondly.

“Hey,” he offered.

Frank twitched, slowly opened his eyes, blinked a couple of times, and then focused on Gerard.

He jumped.

“You're awake!” He announced unnecessarily. And then, he grinned and stood up. “I should get Mikey and Ray-”

Gerard leaned forward and took Frank's hand. “Wait a second, Frank. Just sit with me, please?”

Frank sat back down. “How do you feel?”

“Like I've been hit by a bus. How long was I out?”

Frank rubbed at his arm. “Two days.”

Gerard swore under his breath. “What's been happening?”

A cold tremor passed through Frank. He inclined his head. “What is the last thing you remember?”

“Apart from me being a complete and utter ass to the rest of you guys, you mean?”

Frank chuckled. “Don't worry about that. You were freaking out. And overdosing. Hardly surprising that you weren't yourself.”

Gerard nodded. He closed his eyes. Flashes of memory were slowly returning to him and one immediately stood out. “Bert saved me,” he said quietly, and then opened his eyes to gaze questionably at his lover. “Right?”

Frank's smile faded. “Yeah.”

Gerard rubbed at his eyes. “I didn't expect to ever see him again.”

“Mikey hates him.”

Gerard stared into space. “He has his reasons.”

“Do you?” Frank asked.

Gerard shrugged. “I guess.” He closed his eyes. 

Frank swallowed hard and then leaned in closer. “Gee, about what happened, between you and Korse...”

Gerard turned his head away from Frank.

Frank squeezed Gerard's hand. “If you want to talk about it, I'm here.”

If Gerard had heard him, he didn't react.

“They came after us didn't they?” he said. “Because you killed Korse?”

Frank, though disappointed, was unsurprised. He knew Gerard would talk about his ordeal when he was ready. For now, all Frank could do was be there for him. So, he nodded. “Yeah, they wanted revenge. Not on us though.”

Gerard frowned. “I guess we seriously pissed the Corporation off this time. They sent in the big guns after all.”

“You remember the helicopters?”

Gerard nodded grimly. “It's hazy. They made for the town, didn't they?” Gerard’s eyes suddenly widened and he sat up, grimacing as he did so. He was still in so much pain. “Shit Frank, the town. How is everyone? I remember, there were explosions and fire. The town was hit, wasn't it?”

“Yeah,” Frank replied. “Don't worry about that now though.”

Gerard blinked. “Is the Doc okay? And the townsfolk?”

Frank considered, wondering how he should answer him. All the Killjoys had decided it would be best for Gerard to not know the truth immediately, giving him proper time to recover. But now he was awake, and asking the questions Frank knew he would ask, and staring at him with those big, brown eyes, it was even more awkward then Frank had expected it would be.

“Gerard!” They both jumped and looked towards the doorway as a small blur raced across the room and threw herself onto Gerard's bed, causing him to wince in pain. “You're awake!”

“Hello Gracie,” Gerard replied, giving her a wide smile.

“I was so worried,” Grace announced. “You were so brave, staying there all by yourself. You really showed Korse and the Dracs, huh?”

Gerard flinched, and then managed a small, pained smile. “Not really,” he said.

His eyes met Frank's.

There was an uncomfortable silence. Grace seemed oblivious, or she didn't care. Either way. Frank knew Gerard was desperate for more information. And sure enough:

“You better run along now, Gracie.” Gerard told their young friend, stroking her hand gently. Frank sighed, his back to Gerard. _Time's up_ , he thought. Gerard was still addressing Grace. “I need to talk to Frank. We'll catch up later.”

She beamed at him. “Sure.” Leaning in, she kissed his cheek. “I'm so glad you're back, Poison. I missed you.”

With one big grin to Frank, she was gone.

Gerard waited for the door to close, and then grimaced as he pushed the covers back and got out of his bed. He made his way carefully across the room, picked up and pulled on his shirt and pants, which were hanging on the back of a chair, waiting for him. However, his famous jacket was lost. Frank had promised him he would find it or get him a new one and, one way or the other, Frank intended to keep his promise.

“So, you didn't answer me.” Gerard said, his gaze boring into Frank's.

“Sorry?” Frank asked, already feeling his insides churn.

“The town,” Gerard urged, impatience clear in his tone. “What happened?”

“I'll fill you in later, don't worry about it now.” Frank repeated, and attempted his best convincing smile. Gerard's eyes narrowed and Frank knew he wasn't about to accept such a lame answer. Frank couldn't blame him, neither would he have.

“What do you mean, tell me later? Tell me _what_ later?”

Frank decided it would be best to change the subject. Quickly.

“I should go get Mikey, he's been so worried about you-”

“Frank, I don't want to talk about Mikey, okay? Something is going on in that room opposite and I want to know what. Right _now_.”

Frank swallowed, and then shrugged.

Gerard stood up straight then, his hands upon his hips. Despite how pale and weak he looked, he still seemed ready for a fight. He glared daggers at his boyfriend.

“What's up, Frank?”

“There's nothing up, Gerard.” Even Frank knew he wasn't very believable. “I just want you to get yourself well again-”

“Frank, you are hiding something from me!” Gerard stormed. “I want to know what it is right now!”

“Not now, Gee,” Frank said, as calmly as he could. “Right now, you need to rest-”

“Don't treat me like an idiot, Frank!”

Frank sighed. 

Gerard held a shaky hand to his forehead. “Look Frankie, I need to know what is going on here. Something has happened. If you won’t tell me, then I'll go and see the Doc and he can fill me in-”

Gerard stopped talking.

Something clicked into place. Reading the look of clear panic on Frank's face, Gerard was suddenly making for the door, his hand wrapped around his middle for support. He was ready to find the truth out for himself. Frank jumped toward him, trying to manhandle him back to his bed, telling his boyfriend to stop and stay calm.

Gerard pulled free of Frank's grip, and then hit out, his fist connecting with Frank's face. There was no real force behind the punch but it was enough to take Frank by surprise.

“Gerard, please!” He pleaded.

“Don't you touch me, Frank!” Gerard yelled. “Just stay the hell away from me!”

Frank pulled away as if he had been burned. He let Gerard go.

Pushing past Ray, who was standing just outside, guarding Gerard's door, the red-haired Killjoy stumbled his way to the door opposite his room, and, ignoring Frank's calls for him to wait, he pulled it open.

He was surprised to see many people in the other room. He opened his mouth to speak but then paused when his eyes fell on a bed, just like his, in the centre of the room. 

And then, the full horror of the sight before him hit him like a ton of bricks, as he realised who was laying on top of that bed, bloodied and unconscious.

Doctor Death Defying. And, to Gerard's horrified eyes, he looked as if he were dead.

Gerard stood in the doorway, his hand on the door handle, breathing hard. The rebels surrounding the bed all turned as one to stare at him. There were some sympathy in their looks but Gerard could see something else as well, something Gerard knew he deserved: blame. They blamed him for the state of the man lying in the bed. The man that had given them all a reason to live, who had been a hero to the lot of them. No, he had been much more than that. He had been their father figure, and now, he was gone. Or, as good as.

“What-?” Gerard began, but had to break off.

“He was in a building that got hit,” Ray said quietly, from behind him. “Bert got him out.”

“Is he dying?” Gerard asked, softly. His voice was hoarse; it was as if the words got caught in his throat.

“Too early to tell,” someone replied. “Even if he does survive surgery, he'll never walk again.”

The agony coursed through Gerard as he grabbed the wall beside him to steady himself. And as he turned to leave, he had one thought whirling round in his brain.

 _'What have I done?_ '

And then he was shoving past Ray and Frank, and he was running as fast as he could, limping along and clutching hold of his ribs, his face displaying his pain. He ignored the agony; he couldn’t let it stop him. His Killjoys were calling out to him, he also heard voices he didn’t recognise, so many voices trying to stop him but he didn't respond or even slow down. He had to get away from there; he wanted to get in his car and drive. Put this all behind him, and run away.

_'Keep running'_

He could hear his name being called. _Gerard! Stop!_ Someone was yelling for him, desperate for him to stop. But he couldn't. This was his fault, he had done this. The Doc was finished, their cause was lost and it was all down to him. Why hadn't he listened? The Doc had told him, keep away from that town, go around it, and try a different route. But, of course, Gerard hadn't listened. He'd known best. So he had gone through the town, and now look what had happened to them all. So many dead. The Doc himself was crippled, maybe worse. 

All he wanted to do was run. And, thanks to Korse, he could hardly do that. So, he was forcing himself to move, his teeth gritted in his agony, his face flushed. Get _away_. He couldn't even think of his fellow Killjoys in that moment. He didn't want them with him, because he knew that if they stayed beside him, he would eventually get _them_ killed too.

He wanted to be alone. It was safer that way.

So, he kept running. Through the corridors, ignoring the shouts.

Until, he came to an abrupt halt when he crashed into something. Or, as he very quickly realised, someone. And that someone then took a hold of his arm tightly and held him still.

He tossed his hair back out of his eyes so he could see who was now blocking him, and he breathed in quickly. 

Oh God. _Bert_.

“Let go of me,” he mumbled.

Bert stared at him. He didn’t release his hold. “Going somewhere?” 

“I-I have to get out of here,” Gerard stammered. He couldn't move, Bert had him in a kind of cruel bear hug, and he wasn't giving him a inch. “Leave me alone.”

“You're not going anywhere.” Bert snarled. “You think that’s okay, do you? You think we’re just gonna let you run away? Not this time, Gerard. This time, you have to stay here and face the fucking consequences of your actions.”

Gerard shook his head stupidly. “I'm sorry,” he moaned. “The Doc-”

Bert cut across him. “I don't just mean the Doc,” he snapped. And then, still holding on tightly to Gerard's arm, Bert dragged him a short distance towards a hallway. He grunted as Gerard struggled against him, and then, basically carrying the terrified Gerard along with him, he grabbed his chin and forced him to look at the terrible sight before him. The corridor had been turned into a makeshift hospital ward. There were dozens of people lying on the ground, covered in blood and obviously suffering from injuries, some of them serious and horrific.

There were a small number of people going from person to person, checking their pulses and doing what they could for the wounded, but Gerard could see that it wasn't enough. There were not many doctors in the base and the ones there were in other places, helping other wounded souls. These people, men, women and children were slowly dying, and there was not a thing anyone could do to help them.

Gerard whimpered softly. “Why are they here?” He gasped. “They should be in beds.”

Bert shrugged. “Yes they should, but the beds are all full. There is nowhere else to put these poor bastards.”

Trying to free himself again, Gerard whimpered. “Bert, please, let me go.”

“Why?” Bert growled in his ear. He slammed Gerard up against the wall, ignoring the whimpers and gasps this action caused. “It’s about time you saw what your fucking stupidity has led to; these people wanted to help you, wanted to save you from Korse because they _looked up_ to you and your little gang. And where has it got them? Here, on this floor. Forgotten and dying. And what do you do to thank them? Run away and moan. Good one, Gee. What a hero you are.” 

“I'm sorry,” Gerard sobbed. “Please Bert, I'm sorry.

“Do I give a fuck about how sorry you are?”

“You're hurting me.”

Bert hesitated. He looked at Gerard properly for the first time. He saw the fear and shame there and, very slowly, his anger began to subside.

“Gerard,” he said, softly. “I’m-”

_“What the fuck is going on? Let go of him!”_

Suddenly, the other Killjoys were in the corridor with them, each one of them furiously glaring at Bert. 

Mikey eyed Gerard nervously. He looked about ready to faint.

The younger Way turned on Bert. “What were you trying to do? Scare him to death?”

Bert instantly reddened.

“Sorry, Mikey;” He snapped in response. “I didn’t realise Gerard had become a coward. I’d have used kid gloves if I’d known.”

Mikey flushed. Frank put a hand up to stop the younger man wading in, instead choosing to close slowly in on Bert and the trapped Gerard. 

“I’ll give you five seconds to take your hands off of him, Bert.” Frank’s voice trembled slightly as he spoke, and his eyes told Bert that he was ready to kill.

“Is that right?” Bert taunted, anger again seeping in. “You threatening me, Frank?”

“I think he is.” Ray threw in quietly. “And he’s not the only one. I know you're upset, Bert. We all are. But you do _not_ take it out on Gerard. He's still weak and you know he's not out of the woods yet. So let him go. _Now._ ”

Bert seemed to consider Ray's words. Then, with a weary sigh, he whispered, “Fine,” and released his hold on Gerard.

“Gerard,” Frank said at once. “You okay?”

Gerard didn't reply. Instead, he moved carefully away, his head bowed, heading for the main exit to the base. Mikey didn't hesitate; he set off after his brother, calling his name.

Bert, watching them go, held up his hand. “Look, I'm sorry if I scared him-”

Frank stared at him incredulously. “IF you scared him?”

Bert shrugged. “Someone had to make him see what he'd done.”

“Maybe so,” Ray snapped. “But that someone definitely shouldn't have been an asshole like you.”

Bert made a move towards him. “Did you just call me-”

“An asshole?” Ray barked. He stepped forward. The usually sensible Killjoy was furious, all patience finally expired. “Yeah, I did. What are you gonna do about it?”

Frank stepped between them.

“Stop it.” He turned to Bert. “You don't know what you could have done to him.”

Bert snorted. “Why? Because I told him a few home truths? Showed him where his attitude brought us all?”

“He was tortured, you stupid dick!” Frank retorted.

“He wasn't the only one!” Came the smart reply. “Do you think Gerard was the first man Korse used a torture drug on? Allow me to surprise you, then: He wasn't.” 

Ray blinked, and took a step back. Frank was too furious to notice what Bert was hinting at. He continued on.

“Maybe not, but Korse didn't just beat him to a bloody pulp.”

Ray placed a hand on Frank's shoulder. “Calm down, Ghoul.”

Frank ignored him. All his attention was on Bert. “You have no idea what he went through!”

“Oh yeah?” Bert shouted. “Tell me then! What was so fucking bad?”

Frank couldn't hold back. “He was _RAPED!_ ”

Bert stopped dead. Ray closed his eyes and turned away. He’d suspected as much, but to hear it confirmed was still like somebody had plunged a knife into his gut.

And then, cutting into the silence, a voice spoke up from behind them.

“What did you say?”

They all froze, Frank already silently cursing his big mouth. He turned slowly, to find Mikey standing a few feet behind him, staring in utter horror.

“Korse raped him?” Mikey repeated.

Frank stared down at the ground. “I'm sorry, Mikey.”

Mikey took a step back. “And you were gonna tell me this when exactly?”

Bert held up a hand. “Look, I'm sorry, I didn't know.”

Frank rounded on him angrily. “Save it. I don't have time now. I've gotta go find Gerard.”

Stepping away from Bert and Ray, Frank took Mikey's arm and moved him to one side “Where is he?” he enquired.

Mikey gestured helplessly. “He yelled at me to leave him alone and then just got into the Trans. I'm scared, Frank.”

Frank frowned. “I'll go find him and bring him back. He won't get far, Mikes. He'll need his next dose soon.” He glanced at Ray, who nodded his understanding. “You guys stay here. I'll go after Gerard alone.”

And with that, he turned and ran.

XXX

It didn't take long for Frank to find the Trans AM. Gerard had not gone far, he'd driven a few metres but then had clearly decided to abandon the car and force himself to then run by foot. He'd collapsed after only a few feet. Rushing to the car, Frank saw the driver’s side door was wide open. He knew then that Gerard had left the car in a hurry. 

Frank stared out into the desert, searching the sand dunes for any sight of his lover. Then, much to his relief, he spotted Gerard a few feet away.

_'Thank God.'_

Running towards him, Frank could see the stricken man had been violently sick. The brunette knew Gerard needed more medicine, just like Bert had mentioned he would. He had to get him back to the base, and as quickly as possible.

“Gerard?” Frank whispered, as he approached Gerard carefully, not wanting to panic him.

The other Killjoy did not reply.

Gerard was kneeling on the ground, his hands covering his face. Frank crouched down beside him and went to put his arms around Gerard's shoulders, but the other man pulled away as if he had been burned.

“Don't, Frank.”

“Why not?” Frank asked, his heart heavy.

“Because I'm not worth it.”

“I think you are,” Frank managed. “You're worth everything to me.” 

Gerard glanced at Frank then.

“He was right, you know. Every fucking word Bert said was right. I am a disgrace.”

“No, Bert was wrong. It wasn't your fault. What happened to the Doc, to everyone in that town was because of that fucking company, and what they stand for. It wasn't down to you.”

“If I hadn't had made us go through the town in the first place-”

“Gee, you couldn't have known-”

“I did know, Frank.” Gerard replied softly. “The Doc warned me, but I never told you, Ray or Mikey cos I thought I knew best...” He closed his eyes. “So, it _is_ my fault. Some fucking leader I turned out to be.”

Frank swallowed hard, and then gripped Gerard's shoulder. “You made a bad decision. Shit happens. That doesn't mean all those deaths are due to you. That fucking corporation killed them, Gerard. _Not you._ ”

Gerard looked away from Frank then, his gaze locked on the ground. Frank could sense the shame burning inside of Gerard, and the hate.

He waited, knowing full well what was coming next.

“He's always gonna be with me, Frankie,” the red-haired man muttered. “He's not going anywhere.”

“Who?” Frank queried, but he already knew the answer.

“Korse,” came the softly spoken reply.

“He can't get to you, Gerard.” Frank told him, fighting off his own tears that threatened to spill. “He's dead.”

“I can still feel him, Frank.” Gerard whimpered. “He's right by me, inside of me, hurting me...”

“I'm right here with you.” Frank told him, not knowing how else to respond. “I'm not going anywhere either.”

Gerard hid his face. Frank knew why. Silent tears were cascading from his cheeks. “You shouldn't want me anymore, Frank. I'm no fucking good. A broken mess of a man. I'm tainted now.”

Frank swallowed hard. With every word, his heart broke into pieces. Moving forward, he wrapped his arms around Gerard as his shattered lover finally allowed himself to break down, and he pulled him into his lap, softly stroking his hair.

As Gerard continued to sob quietly, Frank whispered gently into his ear, holding him tightly.

“It will all be okay, Gee;” he promised. “I won't let anyone hurt you again. I swear.”

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

It had been four days since they had left the base.

Frank had taken Gerard back to the rebel hideout and he had rested in his bed for a few more hours. His broken bones were checked by doctors and they advised them to keep him there for a few days more. But as soon as he had awakened, Gerard had had other ideas. They had allowed him to sit with Doctor Death for a short time, after he had been in surgery, but the visit had only distressed Gerard more, and added to his feeling of guilt. Gerard had walked out of that surgical room defeated and Frank, Ray and Mikey had decided soon after that it would be best for them to get Gerard out of there, away from that base and the staring eyes and whisperings, and away from Bert, who had attempted to see Gerard three times since he had returned.

And so, without a word, they had packed up and left, only pausing to grab a radio to keep up with any future broadcasts. They knew they belonged in the Zones and they wanted to get back out there. They'd taken medicines from Bert for Gerard, enough for seven doses, and also other supplies to ensure Gerard's recovery continued. Food and water were also essentials and the base was able to spare them. Of all his injuries, Gerard's broken ankle had worried the medics the most, as Korse had apparently shattered the bone. Only time would tell if it would ever fully recover.

The other Killjoys had listened to the advice, hoping that they were making the right decision, and that they weren't actually doing more harm to their leader than good.

So the four of them had packed up the Trans AM and driven off, only pausing for Ray to tell Gerard's doctor where they were heading, just in case they got into any difficulties. The doctor promised to stay in touch and keep them updated on Defying's condition.

That had been four days and three nights ago. They were all sat in front of a fire, staring into the crackling flames. The radio was placed in front of them and they all prayed that this would be the night that they would finally get some news, good or bad.

The atmosphere between the four men had not been pleasant at all. Mikey had hardly spoken since discovering the full horror of Gerard's ordeal, and Gerard had been extremely unimpressed when Frank had informed him as to the reason of his brother's sudden change in behaviour. Ray had taken charge of the supplies and also the Trans AM. He was happy to drive until Gerard had recovered enough to take over once more. 

Frank's only concern was for Gerard, and he was permanently at his side. This night was no exception. As Gerard sat propped up against Frank, he used a knife to cut into a very bland can of beans, which was the only thing they had left to eat.

Mikey looked up, breaking the silence. “What's the time?” 

“Nearly midnight,” Ray told him. “We should try to get some sleep soon.”

Frank nodded his agreement. “We'll have to leave early to be back at the base before night fall.”

Gerard looked up. “The base? We're going back there?”

Frank rolled his eyes. “You need more drugs, Gerard. We've only got a couple more doses.”

Gerard looked down. “Oh,” he replied, absently. “Yeah.”

Mikey was frowning at his brother. “Speaking of which,” he noted. “You should probably take a dose of medicine now, Gerard.”

“Okay, Mikey,” Gerard replied, a little agitatedly.

Mikey didn't take the hint.

“You don't look so good, Gee. You know how you get if you leave it too late.”

Gerard looked over at his brother. Frank caught the look and he cringed. Gerard looked about ready to blow up.

“I said, okay,” Gerard told his brother. “Leave it, yeah?”

He fixed his attention firmly on the radio and began to fiddle with the dial, trying to find a signal. There was nothing but static. “Fucking thing!” He snapped, angrily.

Mikey had lost his patience. Added to that, he was getting increasingly worried, so his brother's sudden ill-tempered mood went over his head completely. All he cared about was Gerard's well being. “Seriously, Gerard,” Mikey snapped. “Do you want me to help you or not?”

Gerard jumped to his feet. He grimaced at once from the pain and then rounded on his brother. “Fucking hell!” He exclaimed. “Will you just let this go, Kobra? You've been acting like I'll break down any second for days now! I'm not an invalid!”

Mikey seemed rooted to the spot. He gaped at his brother, completely thrown.

Gerard's anger hadn't subsided. “Tell you what, if I decide I actually need a nurses help, I'll be sure to come to you. Until then, will you just leave me the fuck alone?!”

With that, he marched off, his breathing laboured. Frank watched Gerard walk gingerly over to where the car was parked and then collapse beside it on the ground, utterly tired out. Mikey went to go after his brother but Ray grabbed his arm and gave him a firm shake of the head.

“Frank, why don't you go check on him?” Ray suggested, his eyes boring into Frank's. “And see that he takes his medicine, yeah?” He tossed Frank the small box containing the needles and tubes, the thing that was currently keeping Gerard alive. 

Frank, the box clutched in his right hand, hurried over to where Gerard was now slumped. He knelt down beside him and gave him a disapproving look.

“That was a little theatrical, Poison.”

Gerard actually flushed with shame. “I know,” he mumbled. “Sorry.”

“It's Mikey you should be apologising too,” Frank continued, opening the box. “He just wants to help you, you know. He doesn't know how to deal with what happened. Plus, he still blames himself for leaving you.”

“I know,” Gerard granted. “But I told him to go. He was following my instructions. You think it’s easy for me? My baby brother is probably picturing that bastard pinning me down and raping me all the fucking time.” He flinched. “I know how I'd feel if it had happened to Mikey.”

“Mikey's strong, Gee, just like you are.” Frank promised. “He'll get over this.”

A look passed over Gerard's face, a moment of doubt for the red head as he wondered just how strong Frank supposed him to be, but then it was gone. Gerard nodded grimly, and then actually looked over at Frank to see that he was setting up his latest injection. The red head felt sick, but tried to swallow the panic that was threatening to consume him. Frank held up the needle, well away from his boyfriend, clearly trying to prevent further worries for his lover. He tested it, allowing some of the clear liquid to squirt out of the top. Gerard, who had turned very pale, looked away. He never wanted to watch the needle entering his flesh. The memories of Korse were still too fresh. He had to constantly remind himself that it was Frank holding the needle, and not the Exterminator. Gerard knew Frank would never hurt him.

“Ready?” The brunette enquired.

“No,” Gerard ground out. “But just get it over with.”

Frank, his expression grim, held the needle against the terrified man's arm, and gripping his arm as gently as he could, he injected the substance into his boyfriend’s bare skin.

Gerard gasped loudly, closed his eyes tightly and bit his lip, as he felt the drug entering his system, immediately working to fight off the still-present effects of Korse's torture drug.

Frank grabbed Gerard's hand until the trembling ceased. “You're okay,” he whispered repeatedly, hoping it would help towards calming Gerard. Once it was finally over, and his body had relaxed, Gerard finally opened his eyes, looked down, and squeezed Frank's hand.

“I think I've rediscovered my fear of needles, Frankie.” Gerard whispered, a trace of a smile on his lips. “And I thought I'd conquered that particular weakness.”

“I don't blame you, Gerard,” Frank replied. “The amount of fucking injections you've had to put up with the past few days;” He gestured theatrically. “I'm not surprised you've had enough.”

Gerard looked down at the needle mark in his arm, and sighed. 

“You mentioned going back?” He enquired.

Frank nodded. “Yeah, we need to get you more drugs, Gee.” Frank said. “Bert said you need to keep on injecting the medicine for seven days and this is the last dose he gave me. We'll have to get back to the base in the next two days to restock.”

Gerard let out a loud sigh, dragging a hand through his hair. He looked dejected.

Frank understood why. Even the mere mention of Bert's name made Gerard uncomfortable.

“Take no notice of Bert.” Frank told him, stroking his hand. “He's not important.”

Gerard frowned. He pushed one of his red locks out of his eyes, almost in a daze, as he stared straight ahead. “Bert and I, it's awkward.”

“I know. He hurt you.” 

Gerard nodded, and stared down at his fingers. “I buried all of this a long time ago, Frankie.”

“You don't have to tell me-” Frank began, but Gerard held up a hand to stop him.

“It's okay, Frank. I've been holding on to this for so long, it will be good for me to get it out. And it will help me move past what happened, which I'll need to do if I'm gonna be around Bert.”

“If you don't want Bert near you, Gerard, all you have to do is-”

“I didn't mean that,” Gerard said quickly. “Bert was my friend, Frankie. And he's our ally now, we need to trust each other, for all of our sakes.”

Frank sighed. “I know.” 

Gerard gestured for Frank to sit down beside him. Frank did so, and then waited.

Gerard cleared his throat. “Do you remember when we toured with Bert and his band?”

“The Used,” Frank prompted

“Yeah,” the other man acknowledged. “That was the time when I was partying hard, too hard. I got sick.”

Frank cringed. That was not a good memory. “I remember,” he said softly.

Gerard nodded. “Well, Bert and me, for a while we were drinking buddies...”

“That's a way of putting it,” Frank interjected.

“One night,” Gerard continued; “After a gig, I went and told Bert that I wouldn't be able to go partying any more. That I needed to get clean before I killed myself. Bert asked me if we could still hang out. I could see he was wasted. I told him maybe it would be best if we kept our distance for a while, just until I beat it. I didn't mean to hurt him; I just wanted to get better. I knew if I carried on seeing him, I'd give into temptation, and I knew it was unreasonable to ask him to give up the shit too. He didn't take any of that too well though.”

Frank raised an eyebrow. “I bet,” he replied.

“He lost it completely.” Gerard went on, staring into space, grimacing as he recalled something he had tried so hard to block out. “He pinned me down on the ground and just battered me. He screamed in my face, called me a whore, a user and a waster and beat the crap out of me. He was smart though, aimed all the blows at my chest and midriff, not my face. Not where you guys would see.”

Frank ground his teeth. He was trembling but kept quiet, waiting for Gerard to continue.

Gerard took a deep breath. “I pleaded with him but he was just so out of it, he wouldn't stop. He told me to shut the fuck up; I guess I didn't though when he forced open my mouth and made me drink a whole bottle of whisky. I nearly passed out. I really thought that he was going to kill me.” Gerard closed his eyes. “Mikey turned up, with Jeph. They got him off of me, probably saved my life. I was in such a state, and drunk out of my head; Mikey was furious. He went to attack Bert but Brian pulled him away...”

“Brian?” Frank exclaimed. “He knew about this?”

“Yeah,” Gerard replied quietly. “He covered the whole thing up, got me to a hospital and convinced Mikey not to go to the cops. He told you, Ray and Bob that Mikey and I had gone away for a while, to help me recover and get me clean.” Gerard rubbed at the back of his neck. “Mikey still wanted to go after Bert but I made him promise not to, but also told him to make sure Bert stayed away from me.” Gerard let out a deep breath. “And that was the last time I saw Bert or any of those other guys until he saved my life two days ago.”

Frank, his hands balled into fists, got to his feet quickly and walked towards the Trans, his hands deep in his pants pockets. “You should have told me, Gee.”

Gerard glanced away. “It was a long time ago, Frankie. And Bert turned his back on me, wrote that song for me, didn't want to know me. So, I tried to just keep going. We had another album to record.” Frankie looked at him then, and Gerard smiled. “Things went so crazy after that, you know? I just kind of blocked it out.” He looked over towards where the Ray and Mikey were sitting, the two of them close together, Ray with his arm around his brother. “Mikey never forgot though. Not what Bert did to me, or the promise he made. He hates him.”

“I don't blame him.” Frank muttered. “I pretty much want to gouge Bert McCracken's eyes out right about now.”

“He's been through a lot,” Gerard responded. “He's been punished.”

“Yeah? Well, not enough, he hasn't. He's still breathing.”

Gerard threw Frank an unimpressed look. “That doesn't do you any credit, Frankie. Thought you were better than that.”

Frank whirled around. “Are you kidding me? You just told me that the guy brutalised you and you expect me to-”

“He saved my life,” Gerard cut in. “I think he's changed.”

“You can't know that!” Frank snapped.

“We don't know his story, Frankie,” Gerard tried again. “Why is he alone? Where are his family? What happened to the rest of the guys?”

“He probably dumped them.”

Gerard shook his head. “We don't know what he's been through. I think he's had a tough time. I think Korse-”.

“You think Korse what?” Frank was exasperated. He didn't understand why Gerard wanted so badly to believe that Bert was a better person. And he didn't like it. “Hurt him like he hurt you? Or do you need to believe that? Does it help if Korse fucked him too?”

Gerard froze. He stared wide-eyed at Frank.

Frank was horrified with himself. He took a step towards Gerard, who recoiled.

“Gee,” he whispered. “God, I'm sorry.”

“It's fine,” Gerard mumbled. 

Frank was devastated. He reached out to take Gerard's hand but Gerard moved away quickly, not wanting his boyfriend's touch at that moment.

Frank brought a shaky fist up to his mouth. “Please Gerard, I didn't mean that. Shit, I'm so fucking sorry.”

Gerard nodded. “I know. Don't worry about it, Frankie.” He wouldn't look the other man in the eye. “You've probably got a point, anyway. Maybe I don't want to be the only weak fucker who let Korse stick his dick in my ass.” He brushed his hair away from his red eyes. “Maybe it would make a difference if I knew I wasn't the only one he did it too. Is that so wrong?”

Frank shook his head violently. “Of course not. Gee, I shouldn't have said any of that shit. I didn't mean it. Please?”

Gerard met Frank's desperate gaze and saw the regret there. He knew in his heart that Frank would never purposely hurt him. Very carefully, he leaned forward and wiped a tear away from his lover's cheek.

“It's okay, Frankie,” he told him. “It's forgotten.”

And then Frank, passion getting the better of him, pressed his lips against Gerard's and gave him a gentle kiss. Gerard sighed into the kiss and returned it, holding onto the back of Frank's neck to hold the other man still. The kiss grew more passionate as the seconds ticked by until both men had to pull away, gasping for air.

Frank and Gerard gazed at one another. Frank could feel the desire coursing through him, knew how much he wanted Gerard, needed him, and in that moment, everything else fell away and all there was in the world was the two of them. Frank moved forward, kissing Gerard once more, though this time more hungrily, with more lust and before he knew it, he was pushing Gerard backwards, until the man was lying beneath him.

He was so lost in his passion, he didn't feel Gerard begin to writhe beneath him, or, if he did, he mistook it for Gerard returning Frank's desire. Then, he heard Gerard whimper, and he moaned the other man's name in response.

And then, he heard the word Gerard was trying to say: “No.”

Frank froze. He opened his eyes and stared down at Gerard, still pinned beneath him, and he saw the terror in his eyes, and the despair. He scrambled clear of Gerard in seconds, gazing at him in horror.

“Oh my God, Gee. I wasn't thinking.”

Gerard was panting. He pulled away from Frank, wiping at the tears that were cascading down his cheeks.

“Too soon, Frank,” he whimpered. “It's too soon.”

Frank reached for him and was devastated to see his lover recoil away. “I know, babe. I'm sorry. I just... I forgot and...” He let out a low sob. “I'm sorry.”

Gerard began to recover, and saw how distressed his boyfriend was. Frank should not have gone there so soon after his attack but he couldn't blame his boyfriend. He knew how Frank felt about him, he also knew that Frank just wanted to make him better, but that was not the way. Not sex, not now. 

The red head sat up, wrapping his own arms around his middle.

“He made me feel helpless, Frank.”

Frank looked across at Gerard quickly. He knew who he meant only too well of course – they weren't talking about Bert any longer. The brunette didn't try to interrupt; he just let Gerard speak.

“I can't forget what he did. I close my eyes and I’m back in that room, with him on top of me. It eats away at me, always there, day and night. I always feel so used, Frankie. Like a piece of meat. He was going to share me around that fucking company, you know? From person to person, BLI's own personal slave. He was going to treat me like I was fucking nothing.”

Frank could feel the anger pulsing through him and, not for the first time, he wished Korse had suffered for longer.

“He did it to break me. That was the plan. Break me and then reprogram me and turn me into their little toy. Their assassin. He was going to order me to kill all of you, Frankie. To shoot you all down one after another.” Gerard bowed his head. “I feel so dirty, Frank. I don't deserve your love. You shouldn't touch me. I don't deserve it after what he did to me. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't fight harder...”

And then the tears came in earnest and Gerard couldn't speak any more. Frank pulled his boyfriend into a tight embrace and just held him.

“You do deserve it, Gee.” Frank snapped, his own eyes also red from tears. “You deserve all the love I and anyone else can give you.”

Gerard whimpered. “All I can feel is him, Frank. I want to feel somebody else's touch other than his, but I’m so damned scared. I'm so scared, Frankie.”

Frank's heart was breaking, and as he gazed down upon his despairing boyfriend, he understood what Gerard really wanted right then, what he longed so much for. His boyfriend needed to feel some kind of real, physical love. He needed Frank to touch him and to block out the hated memories of Korse, just for a few moments. A kiss was not enough for that. Gerard needed more.

He needed Frank, but he was scared to allow Frank to touch him.

Stroking Gerard's hair and kissing his throat lovingly, Frank's other hand found Gerard's belt and he unfastened it, pulling it free. 

 

Gerard didn't react. He just kept his eyes tightly closed.

Frank hesitated. What was he thinking? What if he scared Gerard again and this another example of too much, too soon? What if his still disturbed boyfriend mistook his intentions and he ended up doing a hell of a lot more harm than good?

Another voice whispered to Frank, and the voice made sense.

'He doesn't trust anyone. You have to give him his faith back. Make him feel worthwhile. If you can't satisfy him, or make him feel loved and needed again, then who else will? Stop being a coward and do this for him!'

Gerard let out a loud sigh as he snuggled against Frank's shoulder. The brunette took a deep breath and then slowly reached down. He was only a hair's length away from Gerard now; it was only a matter of slipping his hand between them...

Frank paused again.

_'What the hell was he doing? This was far too fucking soon.'_

He moved his hand away, feeling disgusted with himself.

Gerard could feel Frank's hand getting so close to his manhood, and when that hand stopped moving, he felt a crushing disappointment. He wanted to cry out in frustration. It was then he knew, with absolute clarity, that he wanted Frank to touch him. He wanted to feel something other than fear and shame. So, he took hold of Frank's hand, guided it inside his pants and boxers, and then placed it against his now throbbing cock. 

He heard Frank's hushed tones: “Are you sure?”

He nodded in reply, breathing loudly.

He wondered how Frank would react. He didn't have to wait long.

Frank gently began to stroke and Gerard moaned with pleasure. Immediately it felt good. Very good. Hearing Gerard's moans, which to Frank were proof that he was enjoying what Frank was doing, he became more daring. His hand moved to take a firmer hold on Gerard's pants and boxers and with one fluid movement; he pulled them down Gerard's legs. He paused for a second, waiting to see if Gerard protested. When there was no protest forthcoming, Frank once again began stroking Gerard's cock. He heard Gerard's groans intensifying and he knew he was over stepping the mark. Within seconds, Gerard was thrusting furiously into Frank's hand.

Gerard knew he wouldn't last for much longer. He was panting, his thrusts erratic and frantic. Before he knew what was happening, he was coming into Frank's hand. His body trembled hard as his orgasm washed over him, and then finally, it was over.

Frank leaned down, and gave the still trembling Gerard a gentle kiss on his head. 

Both men just sat there. Neither of them knew what to say.

Gerard recovered first. Almost mechanically, he reached out, his hand moving towards Frank's groin. Frank grabbed his hand, stopping him.

"Don't," he told him.

Gerard looked confused. "You don't want me to?" He looked down. "You don't want me touching you after what he did to me-" 

Frank's heart leaped. _Oh Gerard._

"No, never think that. This had nothing to do with _him._ This was about me doing something for you," he told him. "It was about what you needed. I don't matter right now, Gee. You do."

Gerard smiled shyly, and then reached down to pull up his clothes again. Once his trousers and boxers were fixed once more, he then moved his head back to rest against Frank's arm again.

“Thanks Frankie,” he said simply.

“My pleasure,” Frank replied, his lips against Gerard's ear. “Go to sleep, now sugar. I'll wake you if there's any news.”

As Gerard closed his eyes, Frank suddenly grimaced, and touched the side of his head lightly. A sudden, dull pain had come on abruptly and it had caught him unawares. He really didn't need a migraine in that moment.

Gerard was mumbling incoherently, so exhausted that sleep was already claiming him.

Frank couldn't help but smile, despite the unexpected and unwanted pain. He kissed Gerard's cheek and closed his own eyes. The pain lessened and he let out a quiet sigh. He was contented. If only things could stay that way. If only he could keep Gerard safe in his arms forever.

_“Frank! Gerard! Get over here now!”_

Hearing Mikey's excited cries, Frank's eyes shot back open. He looked over at his comrades and they were waving at him madly, and calling for both he and Gerard to joint them. Frank's heart stopped beating momentarily. 

_'Please, let this be about the Doc. Please let it be good news.'_

“Gee,” Frank said, nudging the other man's arm. “Come on, look alive! There's news from the base!”

Gerard opened his eyes lazily and blinked. “News?” He mumbled. “The Doc?”

Frank pulled him to his feet. “Might be.” He tugged on his hand. “Come on!” 

Together, they made their way back to Ray and Mikey, who were almost bouncing with excitement.

“There's a broadcast starting any second!” Mikey announced. “One of the Doc's friend's, that woman with the white streaks in her hair, she just came on and told us to stand by for a very important broadcast.”

Gerard's face was deathly pale. 

“What if he's dead?” He managed, his voice trembling. “What if it's all over?”

Mikey and Ray's smile faltered.

Frank squeezed Gerard's hand. “Lets wait and see, yeah?”

The seconds ticked by and turned into minutes as they stood there. The wait was killing them.

Suddenly, just as it seemed Gerard was ready to drop where he was standing, having snapped at Frank that he didn't want to sit down, the voice they were so desperate to hear came blaring over the radio:

_“Hello there, all you motor babies! Sorry, I've been laid low and out of the loop just lately but I'm back now and this one goes out to those Fabulous Killjoys. Listen up, Party Poison, Fun Ghoul, Jet Star and not forgetting the Kobra Kid. I hope you are all listening, I hope you're ready to rock! Get to Services 2 in Zone 4 and meet me there. A man with a plan is coming to your location to drop off the meds you need so sit tight and stay pretty. And I'll see you all soon. And for all you other rock'n'rollers out there, keep it shiny and keep it strong. I'm alive, you're alive and the pigs are running scared without their General. Things are on the up, children. Keep a hold of your guns and look lively. This is Doctor Death Defying signing off for now. Next broadcast usual dial, usual hour. Stay safe, babies.”_

There was a stunned silence. Mikey spoke up first. “That was live, wasn't it? That was a live broadcast, right?”

Ray nodded, and then he smiled widely. In the next second, Mikey had rushed to Gerard and embraced him tightly.

Gerard whimpered his displeasure, cursing from the sudden, intense pain.

“Sorry,” Mikey said and released his brother. “Thank God he's okay!”

Mikey hadn't noticed that Gerard was not sharing his joy. In fact, Gerard was saying nothing at all. He was still looking at the now crackling radio.

Frank and Ray were grinning with relief too. “Now, we're back.” Ray announced. “And we have our orders. And a target to head for!” He beamed. “Services 2. Zone 4. That's a long fucking trip across three Zones. We'll get a few more hours sleep then head off...”

Ray noticed that Gerard was paying no attention. He was staring at the radio as if he'd seen a ghost. Frank touched his hand gently.

“Gee, what's wrong? This is great news.”

“He's gonna be stuck in a chair for the rest of his life,” Gerard replied, still staring. “And I did that to him.”

Mikey frowned. “You weren't flying those helicopters, Gerard.”

Gerard didn't reply. He turned his back, and paused when he heard the unmistakable sound of a motorbike, and it was getting closer.

“Bert,” Gerard muttered.

The others exchanged glances. This was not what they needed right then.

Within minutes, Bert had ridden up on his Yamaha and was pulling off his helmet.

“Hey guys,” he greeted them.

There was an uncomfortable silence. Bert looked from gaze to gaze, not seeing any sign of a welcome. He swore under his breath and then, brushing his hair out of his eyes, he took a wary step towards Gerard.

Mikey instantly moved forward, cutting off his progress.

Bert gave Mikey a frustrated glare, and then looked round the younger Way brother so he could talk directly to Gerard.

“Gee, can we talk? Alone?”

“I don't think so!” Mikey exclaimed, his arms crossed across his chest. “I promised Gerard that would never happen!”

Gerard frowned, his eyes meeting Frank's for a second.

“It's okay, Mikey,” Gerard told him. He then looked at the red-faced Bert. “I think it might be best if you just leave me the drugs and -”.

“Please?” Bert interrupted him. There was desperation in his tone. “I just wanna put things right with you. And there's things you should know, about what happened. I know you’re curious. Give me a chance, Gee?” His eyes were pleading. “For old times sake?”

Gerard stared at Bert. Was he taking the piss?

Mikey approached Bert then, his anger growing. “You want to make jokes about old times'?” The younger Way spat. “Do you know what, McCracken? You're unbelievable.”

Bert jerked his head in Mikey's direction. “Yeah, well, that's me. I think its easier to laugh at something then face it, you know what I mean?” His attention was once again focused solely on Gerard. “I just want us to be friends again. Give me five minutes, that's all I'm asking. Please Gerard?”

Gerard hesitated. Frank saw the uncertain look on his boyfriends face and he understood. There was so much unfinished business between him and Bert and he wanted it settled as much as Bert apparently did. But, at the same time, Frank could see that Gerard didn't want to upset or worry his fellow Killjoys. So Frank knew he needed to make the decision for Gerard, before this ended badly.

Frank took a deep breath and gave Gerard's hand a supportive squeeze. “It's okay,” he told him gently and then, he put one arm around both Mikey and Ray and gestured for them to walk with him.

“You sure?” Ray checked.

“Gerard and Bert have some stuff that needs sorting. Lets leave them to it.”

Mikey was unimpressed. “Frank, hold on. You know what Bert did-”.

Frank sighed. He gave Gerard an encouraging smile and then turned back to Ray and Mikey. “Bert saved Gerard's life, guys. And he's been though enough of his own shit. He deserves his five minutes.”

Mikey opened his mouth to argue some more but Frank gave him a warning look. “Gerard can look after himself, Mikey.”

Gerard's heart soared with appreciation for Frank then. Yes, he was weak, and he had definitely been to hell and back those last few days, but Frank still trusted his judgement and that meant the world to Gerard.

“Mikey,” he said to his brother. “I'll be fine. You guys wait over by the fire. I'll yell if I need you.”

Mikey still didn't look happy, but he nodded his acceptance. “Fine, but we'll be right over there.” He glared at Bert. “We'll still be able to see you two!”

Bert raised his hands in surrender. “Sure,” he replied. He then inclined his head towards Frank. “Thanks,” he told him pointedly.

Frank nodded. “No problem.” His large eyes bored into Bert's. Both men had a silent understanding. Frank was doing this for Gerard, to show him he still had complete faith in him, not only as a boyfriend but also as a leader. If Bert put one toe out of line or fucked up this chance in any way, Frank wouldn't ask questions. It would be simple for him; Bert would be a dead man.

Gerard watched the other Killjoys walk away, and then he glanced in Bert's direction. The other man was standing perfectly still, arms crossed, waiting for Gerard to speak first.

Gerard let out a tired sigh. “Okay then,” he offered. “You've got five minutes. Talk.”

“I'm sorry for the way I treated you, back at the base.” Bert replied, at once. “I was worried and upset from what I saw in that town.” He looked away, distracted. “Men, women and children, man. Fucking blown to bits for no good reason. I'll never forget what I saw.”

Gerard swallowed hard. He stared down at the ground.

Bert gave him a quick glance and then moved closer. “Look, Gerard. I'm not trying to suggest it was your fault. Any of it. All those people dead or dying, the Doc, the other rebels lost that day. None of it was your fault.”

“Wasn't it?” Gerard replied, so softly that Bert had to strain to hear him. “You might have had a point before.”

“No,” Bert answered, at once. “I was being a cunt.”

That made Gerard smile. He sat down on the ground and gestured for Bert to sit beside him, which he accepted gratefully. “Well, yes;” Gerard agreed, teasingly. “But I still went against the Doc's orders. I thought I knew better and I didn't. I should never have taken the guys or Grace through that town.”

“But you did.” Bert noted, staring straight ahead. “And you can't change it.”

“Tell that to the families who lost people because of me.”

“Because of Korse and BLI you mean-”

Gerard slammed his fist into the sand beside him. “The Doc risked everything, coming to the damned place. For me! I'm not worth _that!”_

The other man shrugged. “He obviously didn't agree.”

“He nearly fucking _died!_ ”

Bert frowned. “He's going to be fine, Gee. You heard his message, right?”

Gerard covered his face with his hands. “He's crippled, Bert. Because I got cocky.”

With a heavy sigh, Bert reached out and laid a comforting hand on Gerard's shoulder. Gerard flinched violently; he didn't mean to, but he couldn't help himself. Bert though moved his hand away as if he'd been burned.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

“No,” Gerard replied quickly, turning to face him. “It's not you. I don't like being touched right now.”

Bert hesitated for a few moments before speaking again. “I heard what Korse did to you,” he said grimly. “And I swear, if he wasn't already dead, I'd cut his balls off and watch him bleed to death for touching you.”

Despite himself, Gerard chuckled. “Sounds like fun,” he mused. He paused, before continuing. “You said you'd had 'run-in's' with Korse too.”

Bert grimaced. “Yeah,” he whispered. He looked away, and wiped at his eyes with the back of his sleeve. “You could say that.”

Gerard paused; he was itching to know more but also didn't want to rush Bert.

Finally, Bert turned and regarded him. “You want to know what went on?”

Gerard lowered his eyes. “If you want to tell me-”

“It's not a nice story.”

Gerard chuckled, despite himself. “Involving Korse? You amaze me.”

“You and the Killjoys started making a real name for yourselves, you know, Gee.” Bert said, at once. “People like us, who knew you before, we were a target. Korse himself got in on the search, but even he couldn't find you guys, so he started looking into your old lives. He wanted to know what made you tick, I guess. He obviously found out all about your past, and the band.” Bert looked down. “He searched a little deeper, and found out about us, and the close relationship we all had, back in the band days.”

Gerard swallowed. “He came looking for you because of me?”

Bert nodded. “Yeah, and he found me.”

Bert reverted his gaze from Gerard's and stared hauntingly down at the ground. “We were all caught. He asked me where you were, personal questions about you. I hasn't seen you for years and told him so but he didn't believe me. So he injected me with a drug. It fucking hurt.”

Gerard closed his eyes tightly. He could feel the drug coursing through his own veins, burning every inch of him. He cringed, as if he expected the agony to seize him once again at any moment. He had to remind himself that he was safe, Korse was gone and nothing was going to hurt him any more.

He reopened his eyes and stole a look to Bert. The other man was watching him intently.

“He used the drug on you too? Or a new version of it I suppose?” He grimaced. “It's all about 'state of the art' in that fucking city, right?”

Gerard couldn't reply. All he could do was nod. 

Bert once again resumed gazing at the ground. “He didn't get the information he wanted. I didn't know where you were, I couldn't tell him, even if I wanted to.” He balled his hands into fists. “Which I didn't.”

“What did he do to you?” Gerard whispered.

“To me?” Bert answered. “Nothing. He knew that wouldn't get him anywhere. So, he tried another option.” A tear rolled down Bert's cheek. “He took me into a cell, and had Jeph, Quinn and Dan brought in. It was the first time I'd seen them for months.”

Gerard couldn't help but shudder. He didn't want to hear anymore. He knew what was coming.

“He told me it was you or me. He ordered me to tell him where you were. I didn't know. So, he took a knife, smiled, and killed each one of them slowly and painfully, right in front of me.” Bert gripped his own arm and tightened his hold, causing himself pain. “I begged him to stop. Quinn was crying, pleading with me to save him. I told Korse to kill me instead. He just laughed at me as he took his fucking knife and cut my best friend's heart out.” 

Gerard had to look away. He felt sick. All of them, dead. And Bert had had to watch it happen, all because he had made the fight personal against Korse. They were all gone, thanks to him.

“I'm so sorry, Bert.” Gerard whispered to him. What else could he say? What could he possibly do to make this better?

Bert looked up quickly. “No. You don't apologise to me. None of what happened was your fault. That was all Korse. And I should have stopped him somehow; I should have kept them safe. They looked up to me, they trusted me to lead them, and I let them down.”

Gerard, hesitating for a long moment, finally put his arm around his old friend and embraced him awkwardly. Bert wiped his face and then regarded Gerard carefully.

“What I did to you, back in the day-”

“Bert, it doesn't-”

_“Don't say that!”_

Gerard was startled. He moved his arm away from Bert's shoulder and looked down, wriggling uncomfortably. 

Bert took a deep breath. “Don't tell me it didn't matter. It did. I beat the shit out of you; I wanted to kill you, because you were turning your back on me. I didn't know how to deal with your problems and shit because I was such a stupid, selfish fucking ass-wipe back then, always looking out for number one.” He played with his fingers. “I lost it because I thought I was losing you. You never knew what you meant to me, Gee.” He glanced at him. “What you _still_ mean to me.”

Gerard bit his lip. He'd always known on some level that Bert's feelings for him had developed to beyond a normal friendship, though Gerard himself had never returned those feelings. He had had his suspicions over the years that Bert's unrequited lust for him had been the reason why the singer had turned on him so violently that night, and had then led to the anger Bert had constantly shown for him in interviews and songs from that day on. And now, Bert was staring at him with renewed hope and Gerard didn't know how to feel in return. He felt _something_ for Bert, he was sure of that, but whether it was anything more than pity and some guilt for what the man had been through, the Killjoy wasn't sure. And besides, he was with Frank. He loved Frank, and nothing could ever change that.

“Bert,” Gerard said softly. “I want you to know that I'm gonna be here for you. But I'm with Frank, and me and him, we’re-”

Bert stood up at once. “Oh yeah, sure Gee. Of course. I only have to see the looks he gives you to know you two are the real deal. No problem. I just felt that you should know that-”, he broke off, apparently unsure how to finish the sentence. He took a deep breath before continuing; “I just wanted you to realise how much I regret;” Another pause, “Everything.” 

Gerard smiled. “I know man,” he said softly. “I know.” A thought had suddenly dawned on the red head, an idea that he knew would be unpopular with his fellow Killjoys but he felt like he owed something to Bert.

“Hey Bert,” he began, “I've had a crazy idea-”

Suddenly, another voice spoke up, causing Bert and Gerard to both jump and step away from each other. “We interrupting?” They turned to see Mikey, Ray and Frank gathered close by, all watching them intently. Frank was eyeing Gerard closely and Gerard cringed inwardly. His sudden leap away from Bert would certainly have looked a hell of a lot more suspicious to Frank that it had needed to.

All five men stared at each other in silence before Ray finally cleared his throat.

“Five minutes is up, guys.”

Bert reacted first. “Yeah, no problem.” He raised his hands, and smiled. “We've sorted what needs sorting, right, Gee?”

Gerard nodded. “Yeah, it's all cool.”

Mikey blinked. “Cool?” He shook his head in disbelief. “It's all cool is it, Gerard? The guy tried to kill you and-”.

“That was in another life, Mikes,” Gerard said firmly. He was growing tired of this. “He saved my life since then, didn't he? We've all got to move on now. I've made my peace with Bert and I think you need to do the same.”

Mikey stared at his big brother incredulously. “Do you?”

“Please, Mikey.” Gerard walked up to his brother and gripped his shoulder. “Do this for me?” 

Mikey locked gazes with his brother, and then looked over at Bert. Bert gave him a tiny smile. Mikey crossed his arms over his chest and glared stubbornly at his older brother.

“Can't do it, Gerard. You might be feeling guilty or something, or maybe he suffered like you did and your feeling some kind of weird fucking connection to him. Either way, I don't feel anything except for deep hate, and that’s not going to change. And I _won't_ forgive him.” He shrugged. “Sorry.”

Gerard bristled. He glanced at Frank, who was watching the exchange between the brothers with a defeated expression.

Bert sighed. “Look, I'm gonna go. I shouldn't be here. I just cause you guys problems that you don't need.

“You’ve got that right!” Mikey snapped.

“Oh, Michael, shut the fuck up!” Gerard had reached the end of his tether. “I'm actually wondering if you’re planning on growing up any time soon!”

Mikey's face flushed with anger. He looked like he was going to launch at his brother, and then caught himself. The younger Way steadied himself, and then leaned right into Gerard's face.

“I'm actually wondering if what Korse did to you has seriously damaged your brain?”

Gerard shoved his brother away from him furiously.

Frank instantly stepped between them. “That's enough!”

Gerard, breathing hard, moved around Frank and pointed at Mikey.

“You need to get used to Bert, Mikey, cos he isn't going anywhere. He's staying with us.”

Bert was so shocked, he actually laughed.

Ray closed his eyes, bringing a weary hand up to his face.

Frank stared at Gerard in amazement. 

“Eh, Gee?” Frank asked, quietly. “You sure that's a good-”

“NO FUCKING WAY!” Mikey exploded. “He stays, I go!”

Gerard pursed his lips together. “Once you get over your tantrum, Mikey, you'll realise how stupid you're being.”

“Fuck you, Gerard.” Mikey's eyes were flashing. “Maybe it would have been better if Korse had finished you off! You've clearly lost control of your senses!”

And, without bothering to wait for any response, Mikey stormed off, tears already threatening to spill down his face. He wiped them away furiously.

Frank let out a frustrated sigh.

“Great,” he moaned. “Just great.”

Ray was already hurrying after Mikey. “I'll bring him back,” he told Gerard.

Gerard jerked his head in acknowledgement. “Please hurry, Ray. Tell him I want to talk to him, will you?” A look of concern flickered over his face as he watched Ray walk away.

_'I didn't mean those things. I don't mean to take anything out on Mikey. I'll make it up to him.'_

Taking a deep breath, he turned back to the others.

“You wanna be a Killjoy, Bert?” He asked the man facing him.

Bert smiled. “Sure,” he replied. “Sounds fabulous.”

Gerard chuckled, despite himself. He shook Bert's hand.

“Welcome to the team.”

Frank eyed Gerard. “I think you should go and get some rest, Gee, We've gotta set off first thing in the morning. You're still weak.”

Gerard knew it was good advice, despite how worried he was. “I won't be able to sleep until Ray and Mikey get back.”

“They won't have got far. Mikey will be fine. He just needs to cool down. Ray will look after him.”

Gerard nodded. “I know.” He looked over at his little area he set up as his camp and then, chewing on his lip, once again turned to Frank. “Come with me?” He asked, quietly.

Frank felt warm inside, Gerard wanted to be close to him and that was a relief. “I'll be right with you, babe.”

Gerard smiled gratefully and, with one last nod to Bert, he hurried away.

After he was gone, Frank looked over at Bert.

The other man winked at him.

“Gonna have some fun?” Bert asked, his eyes twinkling.

“Sorry?” Frank muttered.

“You gonna get some tonight, Frankie?”

Frank blinked. “After what he's been through, how can you even think I'd-”

“Whoa!” Bert cut in, grinning. “I was just messing with ya!” He shrugged. “Touchy!”

Frank stuffed his hands in his pockets. “He just wants me to hold him, that's all. He has nightmares.”

Bert smirked. “Cute.”

Frank turned to go.

“Gonna be good working with you, Frank,” Bert called to him. “Gonna be good working with all of you guys again. Especially Gee. Him and me always made a good team, ya know?”

Frank felt a sinking feeling deep in his stomach. He stared stonily at the other man, not bothering to respond.

Bert threw off his jacket and sat back down on the ground. “It'll be just like old times, huh?”

Frank couldn't wait to get away. Bert was suddenly reminding him of a reptile and he had never felt more uncomfortable. Not wanting to worry his exhausted boyfriend by making a scene, Frank merely gave the smirking former singer a tiny smile. Maybe Bert was just teasing him, trying to break the ice? Bert always was a piss taker. 

Frank must have been reading too much into his words. There was nothing sinister about their newly instigated Killjoy, was there?

“Night, Bert,” Frank told him, pushing his hair behind his ear.

Bert simply smiled in return.

Frank turned on his heel and walked away quickly, the sickening feeling of deep dread he could now feel inside of him, and the ever increasing throb of the head ache he had started to suffer from, were growing stronger with every step he took.

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

Ray was running deeper into the desert, his breathing becoming more laboured, unable to see his hand held up before his eyes. He was tiring, and had had to rest twice already. It was so uncomfortable, the heat was searing and the air was dusty and hostile. He stumbled, and fell to the ground, burning himself on the hot, unforgiving sand. He cursed loudly, and brushed himself down, ignoring the pain. He knew he had been searching for some time; an hour had probably passed, maybe even longer. He knew Gerard would be stressing back at the camp, Frank too, but Ray was not about to give up and go back, leaving his young friend out in the desert all night.

He paused, staring into the pitch-black night helplessly. 

“Come on, Mikes.” Ray called. “Where are you?”

He stopped, looking left and right into the darkness and finding no sign of the youngest Killjoy. Ray swore again under his breath, panic now setting in fully. He knew he shouldn't stay out there much longer, as it was no safer for him than it was for Mikey. But how was he supposed to go back and tell the others that he'd lost Mikey? How was he going to face Gerard and explain to him that he had given up, and left his little brother alone in the desert all night?

“Mikey,” he called out, beyond caring who else might be out there prowling the desert, Draculoids included. 

“You better not be watching me right now, sulking! If you are, I'm gonna give you such an ass-kicking...” 

Ray heard a noise and he turned quickly, looking into the blackness expectantly. There was nothing. Ray moved forward, always aware that he could be blundering into danger of his own but he no longer cared; finding Mikey was all that mattered. 

There was no other option. Ray wasn't going to give up. Even if it took Ray all night, he would find his friend.

“ _Mikey!”_ He shouted into the quiet night. “Where the _hell_ are you?”

The soft voice came from the darkness, catching him unawares.

“Ray.”

Ray whirled around, his breathing quickened in his panic. Mikey stood behind him, keeping to the shadows but Ray couldn't mistake his outline. He rushed forward, as relief washed over him.

“Jesus Mikey,” he exclaimed. “I was worried sick. What the hell were you doing?”

“Were you worried, Ray?” Mikey's tone was cold, weary. “Anybody else?”

Ray gave him a disapproving look. “You know Gerard loves you, Mikey. Of course he was scared when you ran off into the night like that on your own. You know how dangerous it is.”

Mikey turned away. “So what? Gerard didn't act that concerned. He seemed far more bothered about his new best friend, from where I was standing.”

Ray let out a low sigh, his hands deep in his pockets. “I think Gerard wants to believe that Bert has changed. Or, at least, he needs to.”

Mikey shook his head. “I'll never trust him. Know what I think? What Gerard went though in that town has obviously affected his judgement.”

Ray glowered. “Mikey, that's not fair.” 

The younger Way crossed his arms across his chest, his own words causing him pain inwardly. He didn't want to feel that way; he didn't want to lose faith in his brother. But he couldn't help it. He couldn't shake off the memory of bursting into the tour bus that day and finding Bert pinning Gerard down, and battering him mercilessly. Mikey had no doubts that he would have lost his brother that day if he and Jeph hadn't interfered.

How was Mikey supposed to forgive that?

“You didn't see what the bastard did to him that night,” he told Ray, his voice strained. “The state he was in, he was almost unrecognisable.” He closed his eyes, the full force of the horrific memories returning to haunt him once again. “His face was black and blue, and he'd forced him to get drunk, although he knew what the drink was doing to Gerard. He just didn't give a shit.”

“Bert was fucked out of his head all the time himself back then, Mikey.” Ray offered. “I’m not making excuses, but maybe he didn't know what he was doing either? Maybe he _does_ regret what happened?”

There was no response.

Ray paused.

“How much of this has to do with Bert, Mikey?” He asked the younger man, softly.

Mikey blinked. “What's that supposed to mean? I've told you why I hate the bastard and don't want him anywhere near my brother...”

“I know,” Ray interjected. “But this is about more than just Bert, isn't it?”

Mikey paused, finally realising what Ray was getting at. He glared for a moment, before averting his gaze. “I left him there, Ray.”

“What Korse did to Gee was NOT your fault, Mikey.” Ray told him firmly.

“Why don't you say it, Ray?” Mikey snapped in response. “He _raped_ him.” His voice broke as he continued; “He tortured him, and then he raped him. And it's because of me. Because I left him there.”

“He told you to go.”

“So fucking what?” Mikey shouted. 

Ray reacted furiously. “Mikey, shut up!” 

Mikey was no longer thinking rationally. All of his guilt, rage and grief for what happened to his brother was erupting out of him. The fact that he could be putting himself and Ray in yet more danger did not, could not, cross his mind.

“Don't tell me to shut up, Ray! You weren’t there. It wasn't a decision that you or Frank had to make, was it? It was all me and only me. I left him there. I turned and ran. You guys didn’t run away like a coward, leaving him to go through _that_ alone, did you? _You_ didn't let him down...”

“Nor did you. You saved Grace-”

_“I should have stayed.”_

And at that, Mikey broke down. He fell slowly to his knees, his hands covering his face, his whole body trembling. Ray reached out for Mikey then, and although the younger man resisted and pushed him away, he was relentless. He clung onto his friend, letting him sob in his arms, getting out all of the pain that he had been forced to keep inside since the moment he'd ran from that store.

Finally, after a few moments, Ray released his friend but Mikey didn't move away. He stayed, his head resting against Ray's arm. 

“We have to get back, Mikes;” Ray whispered. “It's not safe out here just the two of us. And you left without your gun.”

Mikey frowned as he pulled back from Ray, wiping his eyes.

“Gerard is going to kill me.”

Ray smiled. “Maybe, but I reckon he's just gonna be more happy to see you.” He held out his hand. “Come on, Kid. Lets get going. I thought I heard something out here earlier and I'm not sure if-”

Mikey cut across him. “And what about Bert?” He got to his feet slowly. “I can't forgive him.”

Ray sighed. “That's something you gotta work out, Mikey.”

Mikey took a deep breath. He knew Ray was right. He knew he had to return to the camp, and Gerard, and face the music.

Whatever it took, he would make things right with Gerard. 

He was lucky to still have him in his life at all.

XXX

Gerard hadn't slept a wink in the two hours that had passed since Mikey and Ray had disappeared. The Killjoy could not contain his fears and no amount of reassurance from Frank had helped to comfort him. He blamed himself for upsetting Mikey. He knew he was the reason Mikey had sprinted off and he should have gone after his brother, not Ray.

Gerard got up, pulling his mask on to protect himself from the harmful glare of the sun. Frank walked up to stand beside him, and took his hand.

“I thought it was best to let you rest,” Frank said quietly. “Bert and I sorted out the camp. As soon as the others get back, we're good to go.”

Gerard looked down. “ _If_ they come back,” he muttered. “They've been gone all night, haven't they?”

Frank gave him a reassuring smile. “They'll be fine. Ray will have found Mikey, don't worry about that.”

“He shouldn't have been the one going after him,” Gerard snapped. “It should have been me. He's my brother.”

Suddenly, Bert's voice announced; “Hey, guys! They're coming!”

Both Gerard and Frank spun around to find the very welcoming sight of Ray and Mikey walking towards them. Ray was smiling; Mikey was looking anywhere but at Gerard. 

The red haired Killjoy moved as quickly as he could. Grimacing in pain, he hurried toward Mikey, pulling his younger brother's ray gun out of his pocket. By the time he reached him, he was glaring daggers.

“Just what the hell did you think you were doing?” Gerard yelled, his anger evident. “You do _not_ go running off into the desert on your own, especially at night!”

“I'm sorry, Gerard.” Mikey whispered, his gaze still locked on the ground.

Gerard wasn't finished yet. “And, what’s more,” he continued sternly, holding out Mikey's gun for him to take. “You never go anywhere without your gun. You fucking know that!”

Mikey took the gun and then stood there, hands behind his back, still unable to look at his brother.

“What I said about what happened, about Korse;” Mikey said, so quietly Gerard had to lean in to hear him, “I had no right. I'm sorry.”

Gerard continued to glare at him for a moment longer, but then he threw himself at his brother, giving him a massive bear hug.

“Don't you ever do anything like that again, Mikey Way.” Gerard told him, fighting back tears. “You got it?”

Bert walked up beside Gerard, placing a hand on his back. Frank eyed Bert with dislike.

_Give the brothers a moment, can't you?_

Mikey saw Bert and released his brother, turning to the other man instead. “I still don't like you, Bert.” Mikey informed him. “I don't trust you and I probably never will after what you did to my brother that night. But you seem to mean a lot to Gee so, for him, I'll give you a chance.”

Bert nodded. “Sounds fair.” He extended his hand out for Mikey to shake.

Mikey threw him a withering look.

“Don't push it,” he snapped, and then turned and walked away, to pack up the rest of his belongings for the journey.

Gerard glanced at Frank, who stood some way away, wanting to give the brothers some space. He gave him a small smile. Frank knew how relieved Gerard was, and was just so glad that they were all back together. That feeling of gladness didn't last long though, and was replaced by dread as Frank watched Bert take hold of Gerard's wrist and gestured for him to roll up his sleeve. Gerard frowned but then gave his old friend a grateful smile, and then nodded his understanding. He did as he was told, fumbling with his sleeve as he pulled it up to reveal his bare arm and then waited. Bert took hold of it and then withdrew a needle and held it against Gerard's skin. He watched, somewhat intrigued, as Gerard tensed up.

“That fear of needles is getting worse, isn’t it, Gee?” Bert whispered.

Gerard opened one eye. “Get on with it.” He muttered, and then gasped and cringed as Bert plunged the needle into his arm and injected him with his daily medicine.

Frank watched this closely; the feeling of unease from last night hadn't faded at all. It was all just too _perfect,_ Bert turning up, giving Gerard the life saving drugs he needed to counteract whatever it was that Korse had injected into him. Frank did not believe in coincidences or fate. And he certainly didn't like the way Gerard was looking at Bert now, as if he depended on him once more. Frank knew why. Gerard needed those drugs, the drugs that took away the pain, and Bert was the man giving him that respite. Of course Gerard wanted Bert near him, and he would trust the man too as long as the drugs lasted. No matter how Bert behaved.

Frank grimaced. Just what was he supposed to do?

Suddenly, there was a warning shout from Ray, and Frank whirled round to see his friend running towards them, gun raised, yelling for all he was worth.

“Dracs coming this way! At least eight of them!” 

And then, they were on top of them. All five of the Killjoys rushed forward, guns raised, preparing to fight. Bert took one robot out at once, smirking at it as he did so. 

Frank was by Gerard's side at once, keeping an eye on his boyfriend, ready to protect him if need be.

Everything was chaotic as the Killjoys, outnumbered and outgunned, fought long and hard. Their campsite had turned into a battle zone, as Drac after Drac appeared out of nowhere. But the Killjoys knew how to fight, and slowly, but surely, the Dracs numbers began to dwindle. 

Ray cried out, and Frank turned to see the other man had a nasty burn on his shoulder, Gerard was fighting hand to hand with a tall Drac who seemed to be putting up quite a battle. Bert had finished off another enemy and Frank himself cut one down with a well-aimed shot.

It was then that they all seemed to realise at once just how much danger Mikey was in.

A Drac had hold of him, and was beating him repeatedly. Mikey was trying to dislodge the Drac, or 'Crow, considering how good a fighter this drone was, but he was at a disadvantage. And he was in big trouble.

The Drac gripped Mikey's gun hand and squeezed until the man cried out in pain and his weapon was forced out of his grip. The Crow then struck the younger Way brother across the face, knocking him to the ground.

“Mikey!”

Despite his best efforts, Gerard couldn't get to his brother. There were too many Dracs. More and more seemed to be appearing out of nowhere. The fight had turned desperate. He yelled in anguish as he saw his brother being outnumbered and one enemy moved closer, preparing to take him out.

He only had another second to worry about Mikey before he was grabbed from behind and he instantly began to grapple with a man he now knew to be a Scarecrow.

Mikey was backing away, his gun lying uselessly on the ground. The Drac bore down on him, grabbing the younger Killjoys throat and beginning to squeeze. Mikey gasped, and tried to struggle but the Drac only tightened its hold and continued to throttle the life out of its victim.

Just as everything was beginning to get darker, just as Mikey could feel his eyes rolling up inside his head and his thoughts turned to his fellow Killjoys, the Drac was suddenly pulled off him and Mikey could breath again. He heard the ray gun blast, and knew the Drac was dead.

Rubbing his neck, Mikey looked up, ready to thank his saviour.

He stopped dead when he saw Bert standing over him, his gun still smoking from the blast that had killed the Drac that lay at their feet. Mikey could only stare at the other man, his mouth hanging open.

“You okay?” Bert urged, helping Mikey up and patting him on the back.

“Yeah,” Mikey replied, breathlessly. He was very aware of what had just happened. Bert had saved his life.

Frank was firing at the fleeing Dracs, feeling a rush of exhilaration when he brought one down and then smirking as he watched Ray grab it, preparing to finish it off. He then quickly looked for Gerard to check up on his boyfriend's progress. He saw him and smiled knowingly to himself.

Gerard was doing just fine. He had pinned a Scarecrow to the ground, after obviously giving him quite a beating, ignoring the waves of pain washing over him from his many injuries. Injuries he had suffered thanks to the corporation this drone was a part of. He actually smirked at his victim, tightening his hold on his neck.

His revenge starts here.

“I'm gonna enjoy this,” Gerard snarled, his gun ready. 

“The Exterminator enjoyed you,” the 'Crow hissed.

The Killjoy froze. He couldn't fire, or move, but he did release his hold on the Drac, his gun almost forgotten, wavering in his trembling grasp.

The 'Crow, trained well in combat by Korse, sensed the Killjoy's fear and nerves immediately, and he responded at once by striking Gerard across the face, knocking him away. He then moving closer to him, backing him against a wall, his gun pointing at his face.

“Kill him, Gee!” Frank yelled. “Shoot him!”

Gerard didn't respond. All he could do was stare.

Frank didn't hesitate. He barged Gerard out of harm’s way, and then dived in front of him, so Gerard was shielded from the Drac. The droid moved to aim his gun at Frank and his finger carefully covered the trigger. However, the Drac wasn't fast enough - Frank was quicker. He raised his own blaster and fired, hitting the Drac square in the chest.

The last Drac gave a gasp of pain and then fell to the ground beside Frank. It lay there, unmoving. Frank reached forward and ripped off its mask, just to be sure. When he was sure it was done for, he let out a sigh of relief he didn't even know he was holding.

After a seconds pause, Frank was up on his feet, helping Ray to stand also. He looked around quickly, scanning the many Dracs that now lay dead on the sand. He then turned his attention to where Gerard had fallen and he was relieved to see that his boyfriend was fine and up on his feet, although apparently moving away from the fight scene as quickly as his broken ankle would allow him. 

Frank set off after him, not even noticing as he dropped his ray gun to the sand. Ray, Mikey and Bert followed right behind.

“Gee, stop!”

At that, Gerard did pause, and he turned and regarded Frank with what could only be described as pure dislike.

“Leave me alone, Frank.”

Frank was not taking the hint. “What's wrong?” he enquired, and clasped his boyfriend’s shoulder, but he stepped back in surprise when Gerard shoved out and pushed him away, stumbling from the effort.

“ _‘What's wrong’_?” Gerard repeated, his eyes narrowing. “What do you think is wrong, Frank? You just made me look pathetic out there! Knocking me to one side because you didn't think I could finish off one lowly Drac? What do you take me for?”

Frank was taken aback. He hesitated. “I just wanted-”

“You just wanted to prove you were a better man than me. Is that it?”

Frank stared at him incredulously.

“Gee,” he replied, his expression disbelieving. He knew that Gerard was upset, not to mention scared and was striking out at the closest person, but he was still thrown by the venom in the red head's voice. “Don't be stupid! I didn't mean-”

Gerard rounded on him once more at that. “Oh, perfect. So now I'm _stupid_ as well as helpless, is that what you’re saying?” He jabbed at Frank with his finger, his rage boiling over. “No wonder I let him fuck me. Right, Frankie?”

Frank was struck dumb. Mikey and Ray were gaping at the two of them now, not knowing how best to respond. Neither wanted to get involved, that was clear. Bert was still there, keeping back, no wonder enjoying the show. Frank stared down at the ground, and then shook his head, trying to make sense of his boyfriend's rage before he once more raised his head to meet Gerard's furious gaze.

“Don't talk like that, Gerard,” Frank said quietly. “I know this still hurts. Too much. I didn't mean to make you feel helpless, or broken.” His voice wavered as he tried to get his point across. “You're my boyfriend, I just wanted to pro-”

“Tell you want, Frank.” Gerard hissed, interrupting him, clearly not wanting to hear another word. “If I'm so useless, why don't I get the hell away from you all? I'm clearly a liability.” He was red in the face now, his hands balled into fists at his sides. Frank could tell that all his boyfriend wanted to do was to take a swing for him. “Or, better still,” Gerard continued, his breathing laboured; “You just stay away from me. You think I can't look after myself now after what he did to me, right? Well, fuck you.”

With that, Gerard turned and limped away, not even responding when Mikey and Ray called after him. 

Mikey gestured angrily. “Great,” he snapped. “Just great.”

Frank stared after Gerard, distraught at the hateful words his lover had just used against him, and the anger Frank had recognised in his tone. How could Gerard truly believe Frank found him a coward? Or useless? His words had stung the Killjoy to his very core. He made to go after Gerard but his arm was grabbed from behind and he was pulled back.

“Wait. I'll go talk to him.”

Frank turned quickly to find Bert looking at him with something akin to distaste. Frank felt his hackles rise at once.

“That's fine. I'll go.” He tried to keep the dislike out of his tone. He didn't want to give Bert any more. “I'm his boyfriend.”

Bert raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps, but I think he could do with a friend right now, don't you?”

Frank felt as if he'd been stabbed in the gut. He couldn't think of a thing to say as he watched Bert turn and hurry after Gerard, catching up with his boyfriend and putting a supportive arm around his shoulder.

Frank felt sickened.

He turned tail and strode away, ignoring Ray and Mikey's concerned looks. He didn't want to have to see Bert comforting his boyfriend, telling him what he needed to hear. Frank cursed inwardly, he knew he had seriously fucked up good and proper this time.

He was a fucking idiot. He may as well have pushed Gerard towards Bert.

He made his way over to the Trans AM and climbed up onto the hood, staring straight ahead, trying to clear his head.

Gerard now thought that Frank found him weak and incapable of looking after himself, let alone the others. He felt Frank had questioned his leadership credentials. How could Gerard really believe Frank would do that?

Why couldn't Gerard see that Frank just wanted to protect him for a change?

Frank slammed his fist against the car hood. Why couldn't Gerard understand how Frank was feeling? Or maybe he just didn't care any more? Frank had come so close to losing his love, more than once, so very recently and of course it had affected him. His lover had died in his arms, for Christ's sake! How was Frank supposed to just move past that?

All Frank wanted to do was look after Gerard, to ensure that the enemy never got a chance to steal him away again. Was that so wrong?

Why did Gerard have to be so fucking proud all the time?

“You alright, Frank?”

The brunette looked up sharply, and his heart sank when he saw Bert walking towards him, cigarette in one hand, Fun Ghoul's his own ray gun in the other. Bert tossed him the gun, which he caught masterly, and then he placed the gun down on the car hood beside him.

“Thanks,” Frank muttered.

“Don't mention it,” Bert replied. Frank frowned as he felt Bert jumped up onto the Trans AM next to him. “That was a tough fight. Thought I'd better check in on you.”

“Nice of you, Bert, but I want some time alone actually.” Frank replied, his tone unfriendly. “Give me five minutes, yeah?”

“You seem preoccupied with something.” Bert offered, his voice oozing false concern. “Is anything wrong?”

Frank gritted his teeth. Even if he were in a sharing mood, he definitely would not be sharing anything with Bert McCracken. Not after the argument he and Gerard had just had that they all, including Bert, had witnessed.

“I'm fine,” he said, his tone harsh. “I just want to be alone.”

Frank's anger grew when he heard the other man's quiet chuckling. He balled his hands into fists.

Could Bert not take the hint?

“Honestly Bert,” Frank forced out. “I appreciate your worry and all, and I know you're trying to help, but I really don't want company from anyone right now.”

“Gerard will start to miss his little boyfriend if you're away too long, you know. Even if he is fucked off with you.”

Frank bristled at the note of sarcasm in his tone.

“I won't be long.” He ground out, when all he truly wanted to do was make Bert be silent. He wanted him gone. Instead, he plastered a fake smile on his lips and turned to regard the taller man. “I know we're heading off in a minute. I just needed a breather.”

“I understand,” Bert replied. “First the fight with the Dracs, then Gerard having a go at you when all you wanted to do was protect him...”

“Gerard is still under a lot of pressure,” Frank retorted, at once. “And he's still got a lot of recovering to do after what that fucker did to him. I know he didn't mean to attack me-”

“Really?” Bert smirked. “I wouldn't say that. He seemed pretty pissed to me. But then, you did make him look weak in front of the enemy, didn't you?”

Frank broke off. He stared at the smug man, hate flowing through him. He knew, at that moment, that it was no longer only distrust that he felt towards the former Used frontman. Now, it was pure, unadulterated hatred. 

“He knows I love him.” He replied, trying to contain his anger.

Bert was clearly amused. “Sure he does,” he answered. “And I'm pretty certain he feels the same way. Or at least, he did. Before you allowed Korse to fuck him in the ass...”

Frank couldn't believe his ears. He knew Bert wanted a reaction from him, was testing his resolve and faith in his lover, but he had never wanted to cause another human being so much pain. Well, apart from Korse, naturally. That was how much Frank hated Bert in that moment, and he desperately wanted to beat the shit out of the taunting bastard. No. He wanted to kill him. Slowly and painfully. 

And he could tell Bert loved it.

Frank couldn't hold back. He glowered at Bert, fists raised, and then paused when the sudden throbbing pain in his head returned with a vengeance. He gasped, grabbing onto his forehead with a shaky hand.

Bert watched him, his face neutral. He reached out then, grasping Frank's wrist and squeezed cruelly. Frank groaned and tried to pull away, but Bert held on to him firmly. He pulled him closer so he could hiss triumphantly into his ear:

“You should do something about those headaches, you know. They look painful.”

Frank, his face screwed up from the pain, stared at Bert, trying to figure him out.

'He knows. He knows how much this hurts. And he's getting off on it.'

Bert chuckled. "Maybe I can kiss it better?" He purred.

Before Frank could even register those words, Bert brought his other hand up to grip the back of his head to hold him steady as he then leaned in to gently press his lips to Frank's. Frank's stomach churned but he was powerless. This latest headache was the worst so far and he couldn't even see Bert clearly through the painful haze before his eyes, let alone fight back. Finally, Bert drew back, and released his hold on Frank's head and wrist.

“You taste great, Frank.” Bert purred. “Almost as good as Gerard.” He smiled. “From what I remember anyway. Man, I'd love to get me some fresh reminders.”

“S-tay away from G-Gerard,” Frank stammered through the pain. “Go near him and I'll-”

“Oh, come on, Frank;” Bert replied, amused. “I'm only fucking with you. Can't you take a joke these days?”

Frank all but fell off of the car and staggered two steps. He didn't want Bert near him. The man was creeping him out. He kissed him and then waved it aside by declaring it a 'joke'? Just what the hell was Bert's game?

“I want you to leave Gerard alone-” He managed, his eyes still crinkled up from the unrelenting agony.

Bert grinned cruelly. “Or what?” He crossed his arms over his chest in a mocking gesture. “What exactly are you gonna do if I don't?”

Suddenly, a voice spoke up from behind them, startling them both.

“Frank? Bert?” The two men turned to see Mikey standing a few feet away from them, eyeing them suspiciously. “What are you guys up to? It's time to leave and Gerard was getting worried.”

“No problem,” Bert replied, his tone nonchalant, leaping down from the hood, acting as if he and Frank had been having a pleasant conversation. “Frankie and I were just sorting some things out. I was just telling him that he needed to trust that Gerard could look after himself and Frank sees my point. It's all good. I'll get my bike ready and then follow behind you boys.” He glanced across and winked at Frank. “We're done here, right, Frank?”

Frank squirmed inwardly. His headache was fading, thankfully, and he could finally think clearly once more. The Dracs had attacked them in a battle formation, almost as if the whole thing had been planned. And how was that possible if the Dracs had just happened upon their camp? Unless, someone had told BLI where they were? Frank's face darkened as he thought back to the moment Bert had kissed him, or had assaulted him even, and he felt sick to his stomach. But, now with Mikey's intense stare fixed on him, he didn't know what to say. Gerard would probably not want to believe it or would simply turn into something light and harmless. 'Just Bert being Bert,' he would say.

So, despite his ever-growing desire to grab his ray gun, shove it into Bert's right eye and pull the trigger, Frank did nothing.

He nodded quickly to Bert, acknowledging that their discussion was over. He couldn't hold the man's gaze for longer than a second however, so he turned his back on the taller man and instead walked over to Mikey, his expression hard.

“I'm all set, Mikes;” Frank said quietly. “Lets go.”

XXX

It was raining again, inside the boundaries of the city. This was usual, it always seemed to rain. That was just how it was. The sun always shone down on the desert, the sand too hot to touch and the sun's harmful rays were enough to fry a person if they stayed out in that sunshine for too long. The sun was not such a problem for them in the city, thanks to the city’s protection, but the incessant rain and hail continued to crash down upon them. It didn't help keep the city dwellers morale up. Yes, they took the drugs that BL/I instructed them to take. And, the majority remained compliant and controllable, but there were whispers that the constant rain was becoming hard for people to take. But the Coordinator didn't need to worry about such puny problems. Not when she still had the rebel scum to deal with.

She moved forward, still staring out of the window at the sunshine. Sun and rain always seemed so perplexing to her, but also beautiful. Just another reaction of nature from when the bombs had dropped. She stood in the Science Wing of the city, having been summoned there for two important reasons. 

She turned to regard the figure sleeping on the bed before her. She reached out and gently stroked his cheek. A 'Crow appeared at her side and inclined his head politely.

“Madam, report from Zone 2. The Drac squadron you sent out to kill or capture the Killjoys are no longer traceable.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“You mean they are dead?” She glared. “More of my team murdered by those damned rebels.”

He seemed unsure of how to respond so he continued with his report. “We are still able to pinpoint the exact location of the Killjoys due to the Tracker, which is still activated.”

She smiled coldly. “Good.” She turned to regard the 'Crow. “And our back-up plan? How is that proceeding?”

“Very well, Ma'am. We remain in full contact.”

“Good,” the Coordinator noted. “Then the time has come for us to put the final play into motion.”

He stepped away as she turned her attention back to the sleeping man in front of her. 

“How is he?”

The Crow inclined his head. “All signs are now normal. Although he will not awaken himself for another few days, it is now safe to bring him out of the coma now, madam.”

She paused for a moment, before instructing them: “Then do it.”

They flicked a few switches and then stood back. As the Coordinator watched, transfixed, Korse slowly began to open his eyes. 

She waited for him to note his surroundings, and then leaned forward, touching his forehead gently.

“Korse, can you hear me? Time for you to wake up.” Then, she whispered in his ear. “I need you.”

With a deep breath, Korse focused his gaze on her, and then, he smiled. 

He blinked furiously, trying to clear his vision.

The woman gently stroked his cheek, smiling down on him gently.

He cleared his throat carefully.

“How long was I out for this time?” He enquired.

“Just over a week,” she replied.

He flexed his muscles, and stretched his limbs, trying to regain the circulation.

She waited, watching him closely.

“I apologise that you do not have the time needed to regain your strength,” she told him. “But I must ask you, are you feeling able to return to work after your 'accident,' Korse?”

“I await your orders, Ma'am.” He hissed. “I am yours to command, as always.”

“I want you to go after the Killjoys. Do you feel up to that task?”

Korse smirked and then closed his eyes with a contented sigh. “The Killjoys will be easy pickings for me now, Coordinator. They will be nothing without their leader.”

The woman frowned, her eyes flaming.

“That would be true, Exterminator.” She replied. “If the leader of the Killjoys were actually dead.”

Korse opened his eyes and fixed her with a cold stare. Then, he blinked. 

“Wait, what are you-”.

“Party Poison survived the torture drug, Korse. You did not kill him. Trust me, he is still very much alive and fighting on, so our reports say.”

Korse narrowed his eyes. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

He'd won. Party Poison had died by his hand. How could he have survived?

He thought back to the last moments he could remember, and anger swelled within him once more, only this time aimed at a different Killjoy.

“And Ghoul? Did he-”

“Fun Ghoul escaped too. All four Killjoys have avoided capture so far. As has Dr. Death Defying, though he was seriously injured in the attack on the town.

Korse looked about ready to erupt.

“The Killjoy scum, where are they now?”

“They are all deep in the desert right now. The tracker you attached to Fun Ghoul is still active. We are following their every move, and also have secondary measures in place.” Her eyes twinkled. “The trap is closing, Korse. They cannot run from us anymore.”

Korse balled his hands into fists. “What is their current location?”

“Patience, my friend. Gerard Way will wait.” the Coordinator scolded. “There was another reason I woke you up now, Korse. There is something I want you to see.” She jerked her head, gesturing for him to join her at the window. 

With a snarl of discomfort, and wrapping the robe further around himself, he did so. He edged his way carefully over to his superior and then looked through the glass. He was surprised to see a young woman sitting on a bed very much like his, her head bowed, and her hands covering her face. He looked at her with interest, a hint of recognition slowly creeping up on him as he noted her blond hair and tiny figure. There was something about her that was familiar, the way she held herself. He felt like he had seen her before.

Then, very carefully, she lifted her head and removed her hands from her face, gazing straight ahead, ignoring those watching her as if she was on display. Korse saw her clearly, and suddenly, it all dropped into place. He knew who she was, and with an ever-growing feeling of delight, he smiled.

Sensing their gazes upon her, the woman looked over at them. Her eyes were cold, and her cheeks were tear stained. Any thoughts that she was broken were dismissed however when she held up her middle finger to them and then looked down again. Then, she paused. Something seemed to dawn on her because seconds later, her eyes were drawn only to Korse, who smirked back at her. The woman's eyes widened.

After a moment’s pause where she continued to stare, with pure loathing, at the exterminator. She suddenly leaped down from the bed and rushed towards the window, punching the glass, trying to break it with her bear hands, desperate to get to Korse.

“You fucking sonofabitch! You killed him! You'll die next!” Tears cascaded down her face as she continued to pound uselessly against the glass. “Why don't you stop being a coward and get your ass in here? I'll tear you apart for what you did to him! I'll fucking make you scream, you piece of shit!”

Korse was amused. He merely laughed at her, his eyes twinkling as she was grabbed roughly by the two Dracs in the room with her and dragged away. He then winked at her, and kissed the glass, taking great pleasure in taunting her further.

“You know this woman, Korse?” The woman beside him asked, her voice showing her distaste. From her tone, it was clear that she did not approve of his behaviour, so he stepped back from the glass, eyes narrowed, before he responded to her.

Korse's eyes narrowed. “Yes. Lindsey Ballito, better known as LynZ. She is a rebel.”

“No, she WAS a rebel.” The coordinator corrected him. “Now, she is a test subject.”

Korse smirked. “She also has ties to the Killjoys, Gerard Way in particular.” He continued. “From what I've been able to discover about him, they were once romantically involved. Engaged to be married, even.” He sneered. “Before he spoke out against the corporation and became a wanted criminal.”

The Japanese woman nodded. “All of this makes sense. She was captured during the attack on that town. It seemed she had been drawn there having learned of her ex-love’s plight. From the information we have been able to pluck from interrogations and scans, she has been a hard one to break, it would seem she has not seen the rebel known as Party Poison for many years, but still cared enough to come running when she discovered he was in danger.”

Korse's mind was filled with Gerard's suffering at his hands and he smiled at the memory.

“She is not aware he lives?”

The woman shook her head. “We wanted her broken and her believing he died horribly seemed to aid in that.”

Korse chuckled. “I'm sure. But she is not broken completely, I see.”

“No, which is useful to us,” the Coordinator continued. “She is to be the test subject in a final experiment on a new device our scientists have been working on nonstop. A machine that will bring us victory against these rebels in a much quicker and efficient manner than using the Torture drug on them.

Korse was surprised. The drug and the shooter gun had been instrumental in their plans. He listened closely as she continued.

“Twice you have had Killjoys in your grasp, and twice they have escaped. First Poison, then Ghoul. We cannot allow this to happen again. The plan was to use the drug on the Killjoys to weaken and break them and then bring them back to me to reprogramme. This proved,” she paused, her eyes flaming; “difficult.”

The Exterminator bristled. “I will catch them ma'am, I just need more time.”

“That is the problem, Korse. There is no more time. But, thankfully, the plans have changed.”

They approached her together, one man moved forward quickly to pin Lindsey down to the bed while the other leaned over her, the ugly looking device held tightly in his grip.

She stared at it ominously, any colour left in her cheeks draining away.

“Get your hands off of me,” she blurted out. “Don't you fucking touch me, you drone bastards!”

Korse, still standing beyond the glass, stared at the device in the scientist’s hands, his excitement building.

“That machine?” He asked. “What-”

“The 'Re-Programmer,'” The Coordinator answered, at once. “Just watch.” 

Ignoring Lindsey's insults and threats, the second scientist continued to hold her down, while the first man slipped the device onto the struggling woman's head, pushing down her striking blond hair, and looping the connector over her earlobe. He then forced the long tube to go deep inside her ear, causing her to swear loudly.

He tutted at her, disapprovingly. “You will be at peace soon,” he told her. “You will not be scared for too much longer, Lindsey Ann Ballato. You have to trust us.”

Lindsey stared at the man before her with wide, fearful eyes. 

“What are you going to do?” She asked, her voice cracking. “What is this thing?”

He smiled at her. “Your cure,” he whispered, stroking her hair as if she were his pet. “Don't be afraid, my dear. I just want to help you.”

Lindsey shook her head desperately. “I don't need curing. Don't do this.”

Korse chuckled. “These rebels,” he noted. “They never know what is good for them.”

The Coordinator nodded in agreement. “That is why we must force them to see reason, Korse.” She leaned forward. “When you are ready,” she instructed the scientists, her face expectant as her eyes scanned the now trembling Lindsey. “Please proceed.”

“Ma'am,” acknowledged the head Scientist and then he turned to his fellow White Coat, and barked a single order. “Begin.” 

Showing no emotion whatsoever for the task he had been ordered to perform, or the life he was about to snuff out, the second scientist pulled down a lever, and then stood back, watching their guinea pig intently.

Lindsey gasped, the pain in her head taking her by surprise. The machine was sending signals directly through her ear into her brain and the thought terrified her.

And, already, she could hear the messages, telling her to be calm, to listen, to allow Better Living Industries to show her the way, slowly ebbing away everything that she had once been.

She closed her eyes, and clung on to her memories, trying to stop what they were doing.

Her parents, her family, her friends. Gerard; they were all fading.

She was forgetting.

“Please,” the stricken woman whimpered. “Turn it off. It hurts.”

The first scientist gestured to the other and he flicked switches again, putting the machine at full power.

Korse watched, mesmerised, as the device did its work, removing any trace of who this woman once was. He smiled contently. For the first time, he was pleased Gerard Way was still alive. To know that soon, he would have the pleasure of watching the same fate befalling the leader of the Killjoys. He could hardly wait.

Lindsey screamed loudly as the last of her memories were stripped from her, tears streaming down her face as the person she once was slowly died, leaving her an empty shell. She wanted to fight it, wanted to make them stop, but she was powerless. She clamped her hands over her head, and begged the men near by to let her go. To stop. They ignored her, watching, taking notes, waiting. Finally, she became still, her hands dropping compliantly to her sides. She stared back at the people watching her through the glass, blinking constantly. Her face was expressionless - there was nothing there, no individuality, and no personality. 

She wasn't a person any more. They had turned into one of them. She was a droid.

Wiped and ready for reprogramming.

Two white coats moved forward cautiously, checking their subject closely. One shined a light into Lindsey’s eyes but she gave no reaction. The two men noted her movements and recorded her results as she sat there while they poked and prodded, not showing any signs of resistance at all.

Finally, they left her, turning instead to their waiting superiors, proud smiles on their faces.

“The experiment has been completed, Coordinator,” one of the scientists reported. “And the subject has been processed successfully, all signs of the person she once was have been lost.” He grabbed her arm and pushed her to the side, not bothering to be gentle. Lindsey didn't complain. He stepped forward as he again addressed the Coordinator. “It must be noted that the machine turns deadly to the subject if removed before the process is completed." He waved a hand in front of Lindsey's face and she turned to look at him. The scientist nodded, apparently satisfied. "The Re-Programmer is ready for the main target, ma'am.”

“Excellent,” the woman exclaimed. “Now we can move forward. I grow weary of these rebels and their beloved 'cause.' It's time to take the fight to them.”

Korse nodded his approval.

“A fine demonstration, ma'am,” he noted. “Our scientists have surpassed themselves once more.” He smirked. “Now, this main target he spoke of. Will you be wanting me to carry out the final tests for this machine on any further rebels, by chance?” He raised an eyebrow. “Any in particular?”

“Absolutely,” she replied, her tone playful. “I think you should pay our old friend Party Poison another visit, Exterminator. As soon as you feel up to it.”

He could hardly contain his glee as he inclined his head politely. “As you wish, ma'am.”

She beamed, and then looked back over at the now compliant Lindsey, who was standing in the centre of the room, completely non-resistant as the white coats continued to run various tests on her.

“In the mean time,” The Coordinator continued, “I feel it would be advantageous for us to send our new subject here out into the Zone on her first mission.” She smiled coldly. “I truly think it would be cruel to keep two lovers apart for a moment longer. Wouldn't you agree, Korse?”

Korse returned her evil grin with one of his own. “Indeed madam. Exceptionally cruel.”

The Coordinator pressed a hand against the glass. “We will make the final checks for her responses, give her a weapon, and put her into a patrol,” she ordered. “Send her into Zone 2.”

“Yes, Ma'am,” a 'Crow responded.

Korse chuckled coldly.

_'Enjoy your gift, Gerard.'_

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

They had been back on the road for almost three hours, slowly creeping into four, and the atmosphere had not improved in the slightest since they had set off. If anything, it had degenerated even further. The four Killjoys were in the Trans AM, Gerard driving with Mikey sitting beside him, and Ray and Frank in the back. Bert was riding behind them on his bike, every so often coming alongside the vehicle, and whenever Frank, peering out of the window, caught sight of him, the anger in his gut swelled up again. Frank had no choice but to stare out of the window, anything was better than gazing sorrowfully at the back of Gerard's head. He had tried to catch his boyfriend's gaze in the rear view mirror repeatedly for the first hour of the journey, but he had had to eventually admit defeat. When Gerard's gaze had flickered to Frank's, the red head's stare had grown icy and he had looked away quickly. 

Frank sighed. He really had fucked up this time. He had only wanted to protect the love of his life and keep him safe, yet all he had achieved was accidentally humiliating his leader, therefore forcing Gerard to face all the anger that had been built up following his ordeal, andhe had turned it back onto Frank. Frank couldn't blame him really. It was so much easier to hit out at those that loved you when you were hurting. Frank had faith in Gerard, complete faith. He'd never doubted him and he never would. He'd sort his head out and realise what was happening.

_Of course he would. He was Gerard Way._

Frank swallowed.

_Then why did he feel so scared?_

_Why did he feel like Gerard was slowly being pulled away from him and he was powerless to stop it from happening?_

At that moment, the searing headache suddenly returned. Frank's whole body spasmed from the pain, and he quickly buried his head in his hands, trying to ride this latest, agonising wave of pain out. He whimpered softly, his eyes tightly closed, trying to think through the hurt, trying not to let it take control of him.

Frank was still desperate to hide his attacks from his friends, but this was growing more impossible each time. The headaches could not be ignored. They were getting worse, after all. 

“You okay, Frankie?” A quiet voice spoke up.

Frank, opening one eye wearily, glanced across at Ray, who was watching him closely, his concern written all over his face. “You hurting?”

The younger man gave him a pained smile. _Yes, he was definitely hurting, in so many ways._

“Bit of a headache,” he muttered. “I'm cool though, Ray. It'll pass.”

Mikey turned in his seat to regard Frank, and Gerard's gaze once again returned to the mirror. His expression hardened when he took in Frank's state. He was also doing his best to appear disinterested but, to Frank's relief, was failing miserably.

“Do you want to stop?” Their leader offered. “Need some air?”

“Don't go to any trouble on my account, Gee.” Frank countered, unable to keep the resentment from his tone, a hand still clamped to his forehead. “I'm not worth it.”

Gerard gave him another cold stare at that. “No trouble, Frank.” He retorted. “I was thinking about taking a break anyway. Would be a good idea to eat something while we can. We'll be moving into Zone 3 soon and they'll be lots of Dracs prowling around. No chance to stop again until we've crossed the barrier and got to the gas station.” He paused, his eyes darting to the right, trying to spot somewhere handy where they could pull over. “And besides, I'm due my medicine.” He gestured to Mikey. “Indicate to Bert that we're gonna stop, yeah?”

Despite his pain, Frank couldn't help but frown at that. Of course, Gerard's medication. Those pills were quickly becoming the other man's main concern. 

Gerard depended completely on those pills, and the man who gave them to him.

Which, Frank supposed, had been the plan from the start. 

_Very clever, Bert._

Gerard swerved the car over to the side of the road and brought it to a sudden stop. Ray leaned over and clasped Frank's shoulder. “You sure you're okay, buddy? You look pale.”

Frank, finding it hard to focus on Ray due to the flashing lights clouding his visions, gave his friend what he hoped was a reassuring smile, though judging from Ray's look, it was probably more of a pained grimace.

“I'll be fine, Ray.” He managed softly. “I just need a breather.”

Ray nodded, though not apparently satisfied. He pulled the door open and climbed out, giving Gerard, who was already out of the car, a cigarette between his lips, a knowing stare. Ray then moved away, a worried looking Mikey moving to join him. They walked over to Bert, who was still sat atop his motorcycle, helmet in his hands, watching the activity by the Trans closely.

Gerard walked gingerly around the car until he was standing by Frank's door. He stood back, waiting for the other man to leave the vehicle. Frank glanced up at Gerard, who was eyeballing him intently, puffing on his cigarette. The older man then reached into his pocket, pulled out his packet of fags, and then offered one to his stricken lover.

Frank eyed the packet appreciatively, and then met Gerard's gaze.

“Take one.” Gerard urged. “Make you feel better.”

Frank raised an eyebrow, and then seeing Gerard's cheeky smile, he couldn't help but chuckle. 

“That's what I need, yeah, Gee.” He replied. “Cancer.”

Gerard shrugged, and began to slip the packet away, but Frank reached out quickly, taking one of the sticks from him before they vanished.

“Didn't say no, did I?” Frank snapped. He let out a low moan, and rubbed at his forehead wearily.

Gerard frowned. “Do you need a hand?” He asked.

Frank shook his head. “I've got a headache, Gee,” he scolded. “I can still move.”

Gerard blinked. “Okay,” he whispered. His eyes met Frank's. “Difficult isn't it, when people treat you like you’re incapable?” He looked down. “Makes you crazy and you might just say shit you regret.”

Frank paused. He stared up at Gerard, unsure how to respond. 

_Was that an apology?_

Gerard let out a loud sigh, and then looked across at their friends, who were now grouped around Bert's motorbike, deep in conversation.

About them, no doubt.

Gerard jerked his head. “Come on, let me help you, Frankie.” He outstretched his hand.

Frank hesitated for a second, and then clasped Gerard's hand in his own. Gerard then pulled his boyfriend out of the car with a gentle tug. Once Frank was beside him, Gerard grimaced, and doubled over, raising his hand quickly to cover his still-injured rib as he attempted to catch his breath.

Suddenly, Frank's headaches were not his first concern. Seeing Gerard in such pain instantly diminished any lingering annoyances Frank was holding on to.

He placed a shaky but hopefully comforting hand on the other man's back.

“Gerard, are you okay?”

Gerard was breathing loudly, trying to control the pain as best as he could. “Yeah,” he whispered, “or I will be. Still healing. Still got a long way to go.”

Frank nodded. “It's early days, Gee. You'll get there.”

Gerard gave him a pained smile.

“I know about my injuries and I know how I got them.” He stepped closer to Frank. “I'm more worried about you right now, you know? What are these headaches and how long have you been suffering with them?” He narrowed his eyes, a sternness appearing in his tone. “And why the hell didn't you tell me?”

“Nothing to tell, Gee,” Frank offered, softly. “I've been getting bad migraines recently, that’s all. No big deal.”

Gerard stared at him, unblinking. “Oh? Migraines? I didn't know you suffered with those.”

Frank tucked his hair behind his ears. He hissed when the ever-present agony seared up again. Even the tiniest movement hurt. The pain was growing more unbearable with every passing second and still Gerard wouldn't let up. Frank wanted out of the conversation, as fast as humanely possible. 

“Well I do,” Frank said simply.

Gerard was not impressed. “And I thought I knew everything about you.”

Frank knew he should be being careful, he knew he was upsetting his lover once more and somewhere, deep inside, he knew Gerard was trying to help him. But he couldn't consider what Gerard wanted in that moment. Hell, he couldn't even think. He looked down at the ground, and closed his eyes; glad to relieve the pressure of daylight for a few seconds. “It seems not,” he replied quietly.

Gerard bristled. He crossed his arms over his chest; letting out a low snarl of pain of his own, and then leaned against the car. He was in plenty of discomfort himself but Frank was the main concern. “You didn't tell me. How long have you been getting these head aches?”

Frank had had enough now. He felt sick, was worried that he may actually vomit and he needed to be away from Gerard and his probing questions and that unwavering stare. “Why so suddenly concerned?” He snapped irritably. “I thought you didn't give a damn now. Seeing as how Bert's here and all.”

Gerard have him an incredulous look.

“Are you serious?”

Frank gave an exasperated sigh. “What is it about him? Why do you believe everything he says? Is it the drugs? Or does he have some other hold over you?”

Gerard balled his hands into fists. “He's my friend, Frank! Don't start this again!”

“Start it?” Can't you see what he is doing to us? You can't trust him!”

Gerard shook his head. _Not this again._

“Why the fuck do you keep going on about this, Ghoul? Are you jealous of Bert, or something? Is that it?”

Frank couldn't believe his ears. Unable to prevent himself, and despite his pain and general unhappiness, he actually laughed.

“Fucking hell.” He grimaced. “He tried to _kill_ you, Gerard!”

Gerard placed his hands on his hips and glared daggers at his boyfriend. Frank glanced down at the ground, knowing deep down, that he was to blame this time. He and Gerard had been making progress, were actually managing to put their disagreements behind them but Frank had had to push the issue. He just couldn't let it go. And now he had seriously fucked Gerard off.

“Frank,” Gerard tried again, keeping as calm as he could muster, “I need you to move past this, or we are going to have a problem.”

Frank actually chuckled. “Oh right. Don't wanna cause a problem, do we? Shall I just go then? Is that what you want?”

Gerard gestured helplessly. “For Fucks sake, Ghoul! What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you _twelve?_ ”

Frank bristled. “Are you _stupid_ Why can't you see what is clearly going on right in front of your fucking eyes? The drugs you're taking are-”

“ _Shut the fuck up_!” Gerard erupted, shoving Frank backwards. Frank gasped, the pain suddenly swelling up in his aching head once again. He could only stand there, staring at his now fuming boyfriend. He could see the look on Gerard's face now, and he knew what it meant. Gerard was no longer willing to stand there and listen to Frank's conspiracy theories. “You know what, Frank, I can't do this any more.” He waved his hand, as if he was dismissing Frank, and his words. “I was fucking worried about you! But if you don't want my help, you could have just said and saved us both all this shit.”

“Fine.” Frank blurted out, both his hands supporting the back of his head as he turned away from Gerard, and began to walk away from him. “I don't need your help.”

Gerard went red. He paused for a moment, opening and closing his mouth stupidly, as if he wanted to argue further, or perhaps run after Frank and beat some sense into him. Then, his body language changed. He narrowed his eyes, and Frank could actually feel Gerard's icy stare boring into him. “Fuck you then,” his leader barked.

Frank listened, his heart slowly breaking, as he heard Gerard swing round and move off. After a beat, he turned slightly, so he could see Gerard limping toward the other Killjoys. He felt sick to his stomach as he watched his boyfriend, if there as any hope he still was, heading straight for Bert and then lean against him weakly, his face stricken, as he shook his head helplessly to Bert, before gazing off into space.

Bert placed a hand on Gerard's shoulder, causing the red head to look at Bert once more, and smile at him gratefully. Bert was giving Gerard the friendship he craved in that moment, and he was accepting it happily. Bert grinned back at Poison, and then pulled Gerard ever closer to him, giving him a supportive hug. As Gerard rested his head against Bert's chest, Bert suddenly looked up. His gaze met Frank's and they stared at each other for a few seconds. And then, Bert smiled.

It was a smile of pure triumph.

Bert had won. He had Gerard exactly where he wanted him and Frank, like an idiot, had pushed Gerard straight into his waiting open arms. Frank no longer had the strength to fight.

Why bother? The war was lost. 

Gerard was gone. 

Shattered, and just wanting to get away from there, Frank turned on his heel carefully and made his way across the sand, as far away as possible from the whispered but heated conversation he could still hear from behind him. He had no doubts that there were discussing him and his “issues.” He tried to ignore them. Let them talk about him as if he wasn't there, or worth talking to. It wasn't as if he was listened to anyway.

He found a safe spot, out of the harmful glare of the Sun, and a good distance from the others, and he slumped down on the sand, cross-legged. The pain was still there, throbbing against his skull. It was incessant now, and it hurt like hell. He let out a loud sigh and then, knowing he needed to eat before long to keep up his strength, he slipped his hand in his pocked and took out a small tin of beans. Frank scooped up a small rock and then proceeded to beat the side of the can with it a little to eagerly, enjoying the opportunity to take out some of his pent up emotions, The tin was not playing ball though, and instead of opening the can, he managed to only dent the container. Swearing loudly at his inability to even open a tin of beans, he threw what would have been his dinner to the ground in frustration, and then buried his head in his hands.

He wondered if this day could get any worse.

“Frank?”

He looked up. Bert was standing over him, the broken tin of food in his right hand. Bert waved the can helpfully. “Having some problems?”

_Yes. It had got worse._

“Not now, Bert.” Frank replied bitterly, not meeting the other man's gaze. “Just leave me alone.”

Bert shrugged. “What's up?” He enquired, perching beside the irritated brunette.

Frank was definitely not in the mood to play games. He fixed the other man with a cold stare.

“I'm sure Gerard is wondering where you are,” Frank spat, his voice quivering from barely concealed rage and the agony that was threatening to once again engulf him. “He'll be needing his drugs, won't he?”

Bert didn't respond for a moment. Frank was silent, waiting for the spiteful retort he was sure was on the way. When no such rebuff was forthcoming, he glanced up curiously at the other man and was surprised to see Bert merely watching him, a thoughtful expression on his face.

Finally, Bert spoke up.

“You're in a lot of pain, aren't you, Frankie?”

Frank hesitated, trying to clear his thoughts. What was this now? Was Bert trying to confuse him? Surely this was just another of the man's mind games?

“I'm fine,” Frank managed at last. He didn't sound very convincing.

Bert raised an eyebrow.

“Uh huh,” he replied. “So these headaches you've been desperately hoping would just disappear for the last couple of days, they definitely aren't getting any worse, then?”

Frank pursed his lips together. 

_Shit. So, he knows._

Eyeing him carefully, Frank knew he couldn't bluff his way out. Bert could see right through him. What good would lying do him now? Would lying make the pain go away? So, he answered, quite truthfully; “It hurts. Bad.”

Bert nodded. “Throbbing, like someone is trying to bash away at your skull?” He asked, and then cringed as he continued; “You can see flashing lights, everything goes hazy, like someone’s turning the brightness up on your vision?”

“Yeah,” Frank muttered. “And there's a loud crashing noise pounding in my ears. I can't hear anything but that sound. I just want it to stop.”

Frank could have sworn he actually saw sympathy in Bert's gaze. But then it was gone again. The other man looked down at the ground.

“It won't stop, Frank. It's gonna get worse.”

“I figured,” Frank sighed. He swallowed hard. “Have you told Gerard?” 

Bert gave him a small smile. “No,” he whispered. 

He gave Frank the creeps. He was again reminded of a reptile, a snake that was enjoying playing with its prey just before it struck. Frank had to look away to regain his composure and, when he looked toward the slimy man once more, he saw Bert was holding a small blue bottle in the palm of his hand. 

Frank knew exactly what the bottle was, and what it contained. 

He'd seen enough Better Living Industry products to know their logo pretty fucking well.

And now, Bert was offering BL/I pills to Frank. To a Killjoy.

_Was he insane?_

Bert's hand tightened on the bottle. “I know how you feel about the company and their drugs, Frank. I feel the same, believe me. But only these motherfuckers will help against that pain.”

“I don't think so,” Frank muttered.

Bert grimaced. “Listen to me, Frank. I know what's caused these attacks and headaches. I know what Korse injected you with; I've seen it enough times.” He paused, before adding, “Happened enough times to me, for fuck sake.”

Frank didn't want to hear it.

“No.” He snapped.

Bert tiled his head, acting almost as if he was dealing with an unhelpful child.

“Frank, you need-”

“I said _no_!” Frank yelled, his hands trembling. He instantly recoiled from the pain caused by his anger, but he didn't care. It didn't change a thing. There was no way in this world that he was going to put that shit into his body. 

_Not gonna happen._

“These pills will help you, Frank. They'll stop the pain. I should know, they stopped my own fucking headaches!”

Frank shook his head. “I want nothing to do with that company.” He snatched the bottle from Bert, wrinkling his nose up in disgust as he glared down at the unmistakable BL/I label on the small object. He regarded Bert with dislike. “I want nothing to do with you either, come to think of it.” With that, he tossed the bottle to one side, throwing it into the sand. “Just fuck off, McCracken, and leave me alone!”

A flash of anger swept across Bert's face and then, a second later, it was gone. He shrugged. “Fine. Whatever you say, Frank. It's you're choice.” He leaned closer to Frank then, his arm resting on the back of the smaller man's neck. “But those brain splitting headaches are only gonna get worse, Frankie. A lot worse.”

Frank said nothing. He turned to gaze out at the vast desert stretching out around him, as if the sand and the dust could make the decision for him. He knew he couldn't carry on like this; the pain was already too much for him and if Bert was right, if the hurt was going to become even more intense, he wouldn't be able to go on. 

Bert apparently grew tired of waiting. He stood up straight with a frustrated sigh, regarding Frank one more time.

“I better go,” he told the other man. “Gerard needs his latest injection.”

Frank scowled. Bert noticed.

“His course will be over soon.” He continued, softly. “Without these drugs, he wouldn't have survived through to now. He'd have been long dead.”

“So you say,” Frank replied coldly. “We don't have any proof of that though, do we?”

Bert's lips twitched. “Look at the state you're in,” Bert threw back. “You are the proof.”

Frank had nothing to say to that. He cast his eyes to the ground once more.

Bert frowned. “Listen, pal. I know you don't trust me. You've managed to make it pretty fucking obvious, actually-”

Frank snorted, but Bert ignored him.

“I really do just wanna help you guys, Frankie. Maybe make up for my past mistakes towards Gee in the process.” He glanced away. “If you'll let me.”

With that, Bert left him, not bothering to even glance over his shoulder. Frank watched him go, and then moaned loudly in pain when yet another headache consumed him. Frank clawed at his forehead, stricken, desperate for the pain to leave him, to let him be, just for a while. He couldn't deal with this any more, it was continuous torture and he couldn't see a way out.

His eyes fixated on the bottle already half buried in the sand, thanks to the strong wind. Frank stared at the bottle, and the pills it contained. He got up slowly, not even able to take two steps before he fell to his knees again. He knew then, unless he wanted the others to have no choice but to leave him behind or end his suffering, he knew he had only one option. He dragged his agonising body across the dirt, reaching out for the bottle and managing to grasp it with trembling fingers. Regretting every movement as he made it, and knowing he was making a very poor and stupid decision, Frank, as quickly as he were able, unscrewed the top and then took two pills out and held them in his hand for a brief moment, staring down at them. He felt like a traitor. The pain was still there though, and the flashing lights trying to blind him. He needed a clear head. He needed to be able to help the Killjoys again, to help Gerard. 

_Gerard._

His boyfriend was the only thought in his head as Frank popped the two pills into his mouth and swallowed them dry. He closed his eyes tightly, already feeling the pain becoming less harrowing. He sighed, feeling his body beginning to relax, to allow the pills to work their dark magic and make him feel better.

His body and mind were already responding to the pills just as they were supposed to - to make him as subservient and compliant as the rest of them.

Frank whimpered. What had he done?

With a heavy heart, he slipped the bottle into his pocket and then slumped back down on the ground, staring straight ahead of him but not focusing. 

He buried his head into his hands and stayed like that, gently rocking as he felt that familiar feeling of contentment take hold of him.

Frank had not realised his every movement had been scrutinised.

Bert had witnessed Frank dragging himself through the sand. He had also watched him take the pills, and he had seen Frank's devastated reaction as the Killjoy had accepted his defeat.

And, as Bert called to Gerard, he smiled in complete satisfaction.

He'd won.

XXX

Frank was still sat on his own, trying to rest his eyes. His headache had gone, the pills had done their work, just as he had expected they would. In some respects though, he now felt worse. He'd sold his soul to relieve his pain. For the millionth time since he swallowed those tablets, his thoughts turned to Gerard, and just how the hell he was going to explain all of this to him.

Right on cue, a voice spoke up from behind him.

“Frankie?”

Frank looked up abruptly. He was relieved that the pain was gone, at least for now, because he could focus on Gerard once more. And the mere sight of him could lift Frank’s whole mood.

Gerard seemed nervous. He settled down beside Frank, and then fixed him with a probing stare. “How’s the pain?” 

“Better,” Frank replied.

Gerard nodded. “That's good.” He began to play with his hands, a habit Frank had always found adorable about him. “I wanted to talk to you, to explain something.”

Frank swallowed hard. He didn't want to let on just how emotional he felt, just how much of a relief it was to be this close to Gerard again. Especially as he had sensed the man had been slipping away from him, but he was back now. Right there. Within touching distance.

“You don't have to explain, Gee-” Frank began but Gerard cut across him.

“Yes, I do.”

“Why?”

Gerard hesitated for a second.

“Because I shouldn't have been hitting out at the person I care about the most.”

Frank's heart soared.

He placed a hand on Gerard's shoulder and could see that his boyfriend was forcing back tears.

Gerard spoke again, so softly, that Frank had to strain to hear him.

“I didn't mean to hurt you, Frank.”

“I know.”

The two men embraced then, clinging to each other as if both their lives depended on it.

“I'm sorry,” Gerard muttered.

“What for?”

“For being such a douche bag to you.”

Frank actually laughed. “That's a word I haven't heard for a long time,” he noted, with a shake of his head.

Suddenly, Gerard pulled away. He gazed at Frank thoughtfully.

Frank could sense Gerard needed to go deep.

“What's wrong?” He enquired, well aware he was opening the floodgates.

“I've been thinking a lot recently.” Gerard began, brushing his hair behind his ears. “After what happened to me in that store, I've been questioning who I am, what I've turned into and where I'm going from here.”

Frank shrugged. “You're Party Poison.”

Gerard took a deep breath. “But seeing Bert again-”

“Here we go,” the other man interjected. “You know, I really don't think I need to hear about Bert right now...”

Gerard tutted. “Frank, if you are just going to-”

“Sorry,” Frank said, at once, holding up a hand to signal his regret. “Go on, Gee.”

“Seeing Bert again,” Gerard said, after a moment's hesitation. He was playing with a rock as a distraction, tossing it into the air. “He's brought back a lot of memories for me, memories I had tried so hard to bury. Some not so good, like that night, but others-”

“You mean when we were My Chemical Romance?” Frank's eyes were flaming when he noticed Gerard cringe. “You can use the words, Gee. They ain't gonna bite you.”

“I've been remembering so much,” Gerard continued, ignoring Frank's sarcasm. “Back to those days, how much fun we all had most of the time, and how we really were a band of brothers.”

“We still are, last time I checked...” Frank argued but broke off when Gerard held up a hand, stopping him.

“I know that, Frankie. But it feels different now. We fight against this whole fucked up world because we have to. We keep running because we have no choice. Back then, we ran because we wanted too. We fucking ran because we had a vision and we weren't gonna let any fucker stand in our way.” Gerard closed his eyes, seeing flashes of bright lights, and a crowd before him screaming their approval as one. He sighed. “I put it behind us because I thought it was for the best - to make a fresh start and leave all the baggage behind. I thought that would be easier.” He gazed into Frank's eyes. “Maybe I was wrong. Maybe we were just as strong, if not stronger, back then.” 

“Maybe,” Frank agreed, then added; “I think about the band a lot and the men we were.”

“Just kids to begin with,” Gerard countered. “Kids playing at being rock stars.”

Frank nodded. “Yeah, but we grew up.” He stared straight ahead, down the long passage of time that had opened up in front of him. “I see us on stage playing to thousands, you, me, Mikey and Ray. James and Mike.” He paused. “Remember Mike?”

Gerard glanced away. “Yeah,” he whispered.

Frank smiled wistfully. “Man, you fucking owned that crowd-”

“I don't even remember the guy I was so well now,” Gerard told him quickly, not talking about Mike Pedicone any longer. “He's gone, and I can't find him again. Or, I don't want to find him. I'm not him any more.”

“Yes you are.”

Gerard's face hardened. “I'm Party Poison, you said so yourself.”

Frank shook his head firmly.

“Listen to me. You think it was Party Poison I fell in love with? It wasn't. It was Gerard Way. Long before the wars, even before the band. Korse had it so wrong. He thought you changed your name because you're ashamed of the man you once were.”

Gerard frowned. “Maybe I did,” he whispered.

Frank reached out and took his boyfriend's hand. “Well, that’s too bad, because I happen to think that Gerard Way was, and is, pretty damn awesome.”

Gerard couldn't help but smile. Frank returned it with a grin of his own. Gerard was overcome with emotion then, memories of days long since past suddenly appearing to him one after another and he had to blink back tears. He looked down, ashamed. He didn't want Frank to see him cry.

“I want you to know that I'm here for you, Gee.” Frank continued, his soft words warming Gerard to his core. “I want to feel you again.” Frank took a deep breath. “I want you inside of me again.”

Gerard froze. He looked up sharply. What had he just heard?

“Frank, I-”

“There's no pressure,” Frank promised quickly. “No expectations on you whatsoever. But I need you to trust me again. I need you to feel safe. You don't have to be afraid any more. I'll never let anyone hurt you again, Gerard. When you close your eyes, you won't have to see him. You'll see me instead. I love you, Gee.”

Frank leaned forward and kissed Gerard, squeezing his hand gently but firmly.

“Don't be afraid,” Frank told him. “You won't hurt me.”

Gerard bit his lip. How could he believe that? He wanted Frank. God, he wanted him bad. But to actually be inside Frank, to take him, fuck him, probably even cause him more pain. To do to Frank what Korse had done to him? It was no longer an act of love. It was tainted now. Korse had poisoned their love with his sickening evil. And Gerard knew he could not get past what had happened. He couldn't push himself inside of Frank without being back in that store. He couldn't do it.

Frank's big, soulful eyes bored into his lover's as he sat before him, waiting patiently. “Fuck me, Gerard.” He purred. “I'm yours.”

Gerard swallowed. He stared at Frank, unsure how to respond. He then glanced down, his eyes drawn to Frank's hand, holding on to his own so tightly.

“It's okay, Gee,” Frank urged again. “I want you to touch me. I need you.”

Gerard closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he allowed one tear to spill down his cheek.

“I can't Frank,” he whispered. “God help me, I can't do this.”

Frank leaned in to Gerard, taking in his scent, listening to his breathing.

“I'm not gonna push you into anything, Gee;” he muttered. “We're gonna take this as slow as you want. I need you to tell me something right now though, do you want me to suck you?”

Gerard hesitated. And then, very carefully, he nodded.

That was all that the brunette needed.

Frank smiled. He quickly undid Gerard’s pants, and slipped his hand inside. He then sucked on his lover’s neck, moving down his body, smirking as he sensed his leader tensing in pleasure from his actions. Finally, his face was at Gerard’s groin and he licked and sucked on his thighs, gripping the writhing man tightly. Then, he nuzzled his face into the wiry hairs he found peeping seductively above the waistband of Gerard’s boxers. With one tug, those boxers were around Gerard’s ankles and Frank wrapped his hand around the other man’s cock, while gently alternating licking and blowing on the tip. 

“You gonna keep on teasing me, Frankie?” Gerard moaned, his desire making his voice husky. Frank couldn't help but chuckle.

“Sorry,” he whispered, and then opened his mouth wide, taking Gerard fully inside. The heat made the red head close his eyes tightly and he whimpered, the pleasure now seizing hold of him. He thought he might actually burst. Frank watched him, knowing he was driving him wild, his own breathing becoming laboured as he took in Gerard's moaning and writhing, his total loss of control, at _his_ touch. Gerard, meanwhile, knew he was at another man's mercy in that moment and it caught him by surprise when he realized he didn’t care. He knew then that he trusted Frank completely and was happy to give all the power to his lover. 

Sucking and running his tongue along the vein underneath, Frank was determined to make his boyfriend scream. It had been too long; he wanted so badly to hear his name on Gerard’s lips again. Pulling back slightly, he gently scraped his teeth against the engorged head of Gerard s cock, just enough to close the gap between pleasure and pain, knowing that it would drive his lover wild. It always had.

Gerard bucked his hips, trying to get Frank to take him in further, wanting to feel more of the incredible sensation of heat and wetness that he had only ever found inside Frank’s mouth. The other Killjoy happily obliged, sucking him deep, breathing through his nose to counter his gag reflex, and moved his hand so that he was now rolling Gerard’s balls and stroking his perineum with his index finger. He knew his lover could not last for too much longer, he wanted to feel the other man come in his mouth, wanted to feel that incredible power once again of bringing the man he loved to uncontrollable ecstasy. 

“Frankie,” Gerard gasped. “Please.”

Frank grinned triumphantly. With a final hard suck, he stroked around Gerard’s rosebud and that was enough for the man to come with a loud moan into the back of his mouth. Frank continued sucking as he held onto Gerard, swallowing every last drop of the other man’s essence that flooded down his throat. Finally, when Gerard was done, Frank stopped sucking and gulped down some air, moving back up the other man's body and kissing the red head deeply, sharing the taste with his lover.

As the last of his orgasm left him, Gerard opened his eyes and gazed down at Frank, reaching out to touch the other man’s dark hair, a tear slowly trickling down his still bruised cheek.

They lay there, just like that, for several minutes. Both of them tried to regain their composure.

Finally, Frank turned to gaze at Gerard, and Gerard could see the love shining on his face. Frank reached out gingerly, grasping his boyfriend's hand in his once again, and then he leaned towards the older man, placing his lips against the red head's. Gerard kissed him back firmly and the kiss quickly turned passionate, Gerard actually using his tongue first, searching Frank's mouth. Suddenly, the older man found himself being pushed back down on the ground and he wasn't surprised, he knew Frank would want to take control of the situation, his expected need to dominate his lover was too strong to ignore. This is what Frank really wanted, Gerard laid out before him, his for the taking. Ghoul draped Gerard's body with his own and Gerard, having no idea when or how, discovered that Frank had somehow managed to remove his shirt. 

Anticipation and excitement flooded Gerard at what was to come, but then, as Frank began to suck and lick at his nipples, he felt a painful stab coming from his groin, caused, of course, by one of his many recent wounds inflicted on him by Korse, and panic and concern suddenly took hold. With a growing feeling of terror in his gut, Gerard knew exactly what Frank expected and deserved from him. Gerard had had his pleasure; now it was Frank's go. Gerard grimaced; he knew what his lover would need and it wasn't that Gerard didn't want to give it to him; it was simply that Gerard had not recovered enough physically or mentally from the horrendous ordeal Korse had put him through. But that was not Frank's fault, Gerard told himself. Frank had offered his own life to Korse in exchange for Gerard's; he had risked everything to save him. Showing the man some gratitude and love now was the least Gerard could do for him.

With a gentle push, and what he hoped was a relaxed smile on his lips, Gerard forced Frank to move away from him and then, with a pained whimper that he tried desperately to stifle, Gerard began, slowly but surely, to turn over onto his front. He cringed inwardly but refused to show his lover his discomfort. Frank immediately began to kiss the back of his lover's neck and massaged his back and, as his hand moved lower, his thighs. Gerard laid there, his eyes closed. He desperately forced his body to relax, telling himself repeatedly who it was that was touching him, that his Frank would never hurt him, that he loved him, but he couldn't prevent the small tremor that swept through his body as Frank gently lifted his thighs, manoeuvring the other man onto his knees. Gerard kept his head down and bit his lip, hoping to hold the small cries inside. 

Stop, he pleaded silently, as Frank took hold of his manhood and began to fondle him. _Please Frankie. This hurts._

He would not speak up; he didn't want to offend the younger man. His touch, just like this, would have once rendered Gerard useless with pleasure. But now, he was frightened and in pain and he wanted it to end. He decided the best option was to move things along quicker. The faster, the better, he thought, and Frank would also be satisfied and right then, that was all that mattered.

“Come on, Frank.” Gerard breathed quietly. “Just do it.” He spread his legs and waited, face down into the sand, his whole being burning with fear and shame. What must he look like, lying there, open and willing? Korse had been right. Gerard Way had become a whore. True, Frankie was the only man he would stoop this low to please, the one man he found himself actually trusting enough to leave himself so open to possible attack. But that didn't make him feel any less cheap. It took him a few seconds of scared anticipation and burning humiliation before he realised that not only had Frank apparently not taken him up on his offer but had also stopped touching him entirely. 

Gerard swallowed hard. What was Frank waiting for?

Still, his boyfriend didn't move.

"Frankie," Gerard whispered, his stomach knotting with dread, for he already knew the answer. "What's wrong?"

"Gee," Frank began, but seemed unable to continue. Gerard found himself thankful for that small mercy. He didn't want to hear what Frank had to say. He didn't need to hear the man explaining how a bitch like Gerard was no longer desirable to him. He already knew that. He didn't deserve Frank Iero anymore; he knew it only to well. But he also couldn't cope with hearing the truth from Frank. He couldn't listen to him admitting that risking so much to save a man already broken had all been a huge mistake, a mistake he now deeply regretted. Gerard tried to prepare himself, for he sensed that his whole word was once more about to collapse around him. 

He took a deep breath. After a brief pause, he asked, in a tiny voice; “You don't want me, do you?”

Frank blinked. He frowned, gazing at Gerard. He searched his devastated face and then, with a tired sigh, he took a hold of Gerard's arms and pulled his trembling boyfriend into a protective embrace.

They stayed there, just like that, for a moment, just holding each other tightly. Gerard, feeling relief wash over him, felt complete contentment for the first time in what felt like forever, and he didn't want it to end. 

For the first time since Korse had walked into the storeroom, he felt _safe._

Frank, sensing the other man's need for his continued affection, gently reached out and stroked Gerard's hair.

"I don't need sex from you, Gee." He whispered kindly. "Especially when you don't want me to."

Gerard frowned. "Frankie, I..."

"Don't, man." His lover interrupted him. "I know you're still hurting after what that fucker did. Hurting badly. I don't want to cause you any more pain. I wanted to protect you from having to go through any more shit like that." He kissed his forehead. “I just want you to feel loved, Gee.”

Gerard paused. There was a question he had to ask. He couldn't shake the doubts that Korse had successfully placed in his mind. "But if you don't want to fuck me, Frank." He murmured. "Then what else am I good for?"

Frank pulled away from Gerard as if he had been burned. He shook his head wordlessly, giving him a shocked, probing stare.

“How can you ask me that?” Frank finally replied. “How the fuck can you even think that?”

Gerard cast his eyes to the ground. He couldn’t return that look. Frank's gaze had filled with disappointment; perhaps even anger, and Gerard couldn't bear to see it.

“Korse said-” Gerard began but Frank cut him off furiously.

“I don't give a fuck what that piece of shit said!” He sprang up, his face screwed up with rage, apparently at a loss of what he should do. He proceeded to pace up and down. Gerard got the impression that Frank seriously wanted to beat the shit out of something, anything he could lay his hands on in fact.

He cringed as Frank made straight for him, grabbed him by his arms, and gave him a none-to-gentle shake.

“How could you think that of me? I love you, Gerard. I've always loved you!”

Gerard whimpered. He knew Frank was incensed, knew his boyfriend didn't mean to hurt or frighten him, but he was gripping him tightly, hard enough to bruise.

“I'm sorry, Frank.” He muttered, his eyes fixed on the floor.

Frank wasn't satisfied. 

“Don't you fucking apologize to me! Tell me why you fucking think that I'm only with you for the sex. Because isn't that what you meant?”

Frank waited for his answer, but Gerard had no idea what to say. With a scowl of frustration, Frank pushed Gerard away from him, and then brought a weary hand up to his forehead. Gerard watched him, breathing loudly. Everything in his mind was a muddle. He just couldn't think clearly, and it scared him. He reached out to take his boyfriend's hand again, desperate for some comfort or even just a kind word, but Frank was no longer in the supportive mood. He pulled his hand away from Gerard's and then stepped away from him. He fixed his pants quickly; not looking at his now devastated boyfriend again, and then began to move away.

Gerard let out a desperate wail.

“Please Frank! I'm sorry. Don't leave, not like this.”

“I'll go find the others,” Frank replied coldly. He didn't look at Gerard. “It's time we headed off.” He gestured to his boyfriend, but still didn't meet his eyes. “Make yourself presentable, yeah? I'll be back for you in a few minutes. Be ready to leave.” Finally, he did glance at Gerard then and actually touched his arm. “We'll talk about this later, okay?”

“Are you mad, Frank?” Gerard whispered.

“I said later,” Frank told him, more firmly. 

Gerard paled, but then nodded.

Frank walked away. Gerard watched him go, one thought echoing round and round in his head:

_'I've really fucked up now.'_

XXX

Frank's anger had almost disappeared by the time he was nearly back at the car. Why had he lost his temper so spectacularly with Gerard? His boyfriend had just trusted him, had allowed him to touch him so intimately, and this is how Frank proved his love? By yelling at Gerard and probably scaring him half to death? Why couldn't he have just kept his cool, just this once?

Frank was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't realise that something was horrendously wrong until it was to late. As he reached the Trans AM and prepared to call out to the others to get ready to be on their way, he suddenly realised that something was off. It was too quiet. 

Where were Mikey, Ray and Bert?

He soon got his answer. 

He swung around, and horror filled him when he saw his three friends kneeling on the sand a few meters away from him, their hands tied behind them, their mouths gagged. He was sure their expressions as they stared back at him mirrored his own.

Then his eyes moved to his friend's captors. A team of Dracs were standing around them, their ray guns trained on his fellow Killjoys. 

Frank stood perfectly still, waiting for the enemy to make their move first.

Sure enough, a voice rang out:

“Restrain that Killjoy.”

Frank did exactly what was to be expected from him. Although the new drugs coursing though his system had weakened him, it made no difference; he was Fun Ghoul. He fought. He gave it his all. He had knocked two Dracs to the ground and was just proceeding to deal with a third when a shout from afar made him pause.

He looked up, and what he saw made his blood run cold.

A Drac, one with some brains apparently, much to Frank’s surprise, was holding Mikey by his hair, a ray gun pressed against the back of his head. Frank stared at the Drac, his breathing laboured.

“Give it up, Ghoul!” The Drac stated, almost as if it were bored. “Or he dies.” 

Ray let out a muffled shout of anger, and tugged uselessly on his restraints. Bert, however, merely stared at Frank, his eyes narrowing. Then, he shook his head once.

Frank understood, and he agreed. There was no choice. A moment passed and then Frank slowly raised his hands, indicating his surrender.

Within seconds, at least five Dracs were upon him.

In no time, Frank found himself being thrown unceremoniously to the floor beside his comrades, his wrists also handcuffed behind his back. Now, they were all helpless. 

All but Gerard… If only Frank could get a message to his lover, to make him stay away. He exchanged glanced with Ray and Mikey and tried to send them a silent message.

_He's fine. He'll get us out of this._

He only prayed it was true. The Drac that was no doubt in charge of this hunting party had stepped forward and was advancing on Frank. The drone was shorter than the commander's he had experienced before but there was something about this one that oozed authority. The brunette glared at it hatefully, as if daring it to come closer.

The Drac was unperturbed.

It paused directly in front of him, and then reached down and grabbed his hair in a painful grip, ripping his head back. It then held its’ gun against his throat. When it spoke again, Frank realised that its’ voice was muffled and he assumed this were due to it using a voice distorter.

 _'A Drac with some power,'_ he reasoned. _It wants to keep its identity a secret from us. Why would it bother?'_

He didn't have long to ponder over his questions. Although Frank had no idea who or what the Drac was, or had once been, its’ intentions suddenly became very clear when it spoke again, in a commanding tone.

“Killjoy,” the Drac snarled, its’ disdain for him obvious from it's tone. “You will speak to me, or I will end your tragic existence here and now.”

Frank struggled but it held him tightly as it completed its’ sentence:

“Where is your esteemed leader?”

TBC


	13. Chapter 13

Frank stared up at the Drac, his eyes flaming with hatred. He stayed stubbornly silent, and then, with a toss of his hair, pulled his head out of the drone's grasp. He then spat onto the ground, making his feelings only too clear.

He could sense the anger pouring off of the BL/I slave beside him in waves. With a snarl, the Drac backhanded Frank hard, whipping his face to one side. After pausing for a few seconds to recover his composure, Frank then turned his head to stare once again at the Drac, his expression calm, only his fiery eyes betraying his hatred and fury.

And then, he smirked.

Once again, the Drac hit out and again, Frank did not cry out, or react in any way. If anything, he looked bored. He knew he couldn't show any reaction to whatever the Drac had in store for him. For Gerard's sake, who was, Frank had no doubt, hearing; and most likely watching, everything that was happening. Frank couldn't stand it if Gerard decided he was going to be a big damn hero and give himself up to save Frank. The brunette would not allow Gerard to be taken by BL/I, certainly not for him.

He'd rather die.

The Drac gripped his hair roughly again, and brought its face to within a hair's length of Frank's.

“Where is Party Poison?” The Drac barked.

Frank stared back at the BL/I scum, unblinking. He had nothing to say to it. To prove that fact, he turned away, whistling nonchalantly.

The Drac chuckled, the sound eerie beneath the drone's mask.

It lowered it's voice. “Why do you even bother protecting him?” The Drac snarled. “Poison ran away and left you to your fate. He doesn't care about you. He is nothing but a coward.”

Frank trembled slightly but just about managed to hold himself together. Mikey, however, had attempted to drag himself to his feet in a futile effort to get to the taunting Drac, but he was knocked to the ground easily by another drone that was stood over him, guarding him, Ray and Bert.

Ray cursed loudly, and was also struck across the face for his trouble. Only Bert remained motionless. 

The Drac leader glanced over at the fuming Killjoys, it's gaze hovering on Mikey for a few moments, and then turned it's full attention back to Frank. It leaned in ever closer, close enough for Frank to hear it's breathing, and he cringed inwardly. The Drac's tone was taunting, as it hissed to it's victim; “I imagine the rumours are true, considering your precious leader's absence.” It chuckled, before continuing. “The great Party Poison was used as a whore by Exterminator Korse and is now broken beyond repair.” It paused. “Am I right, Ghoul?”

Frank closed his eyes. He had to contain his temper. He couldn't lose it. If he did, he was playing right into the Drac's hands. 

He heard a sound from behind him and he stole a look over his shoulder, seeing Ray, Mikey and Bert now all struggling against their bonds and their captors, desperately trying to force themselves free. This only hardened Frank's revolve. They hadn't given up and nor would he.

The Drac gripped Frank's chin and forced the rebel to look back at it. “Where is your fearless leader?” It tightened it's hold. “Tell me.”

“Fuck you.” Frank replied calmly.

The Drac tutted. “Fool,” it sighed. “He isn't worth your death, Ghoul.”

Frank smiled. The meaning behind his smirk was obvious, even to the unemotional monster leering over him. 

Gerard was worth everything to him.

“I'd die for him,” Frank said simply. “Don't try to understand. You can't.”

The Drac regarded Frank. And then, with a snarl, it forced it's ray gun into the struggling man's mouth.

“Let's put that to the test, shall we?”

There was a smothered cry from behind them. Both Frank and his Draculoid tormentor were aware of the ruckus going on behind them. They knew the Killjoys were fighting tooth and claw to get to them and do whatever they had to to save Frank's life. 

Frank merely glared. He shook his head slightly, his stubbornness on proud display.

“Last chance, you rebel scum.” The Draculoid spat at him, it's finger covering the trigger. “Where is Party Poison?”

Frank didn't move. He felt curiously at peace. He knew he was staring death in the face and he was surprisingly calm about it. He would never betray the man he loved; he had sworn to protect him with his dying breath, and he would keep to his word. No matter how soon that death turned out to be. 

If he could have had one last request, however, he would have just wanted to see Gerard one last time before he went.

Frank closed his eyes.

The Draculoid was watching him closely, and it was hesitating. It's orders had been crystal clear. Bring Gerard Way to the City, broken but alive, prepared for reprogramming. The remainder of the Killjoys were inconsequential to the Corporation's plans.

Korse had been insistent though.

_“Keep Fun Ghoul alive. He is a useful bargaining tool.”_

And there was a nagging, incomprehensible doubt bubbling up deep within the Drac, preventing it from pulling the trigger and ending the rebel's pointless life.

No. It was more than that. The Draculoid could feel something inside. It actually _cared._

It grimaced. They had delivered their orders, and the Draculoid would obey. That was all there was in life.

Only the Corporation mattered.

This was a Killjoy. His life was meaningless. He was dangerous. He deserved to die. 

The Draculoid stared at Frank. No more indecisivness. For the sake of the company, he would die. 

The drone shrugged. “As you wish,” it whispered. 

At that moment, there was a loud crashing noise from a short distance away, just out of sight. Frank's eyes snapped open, and the Drac looked up sharply, instantly noting that the sound came from the direction where Ghoul had appeared from. A flicker of concern flashed across Frank's face. It was only there for a second, but the Drac saw it. It smiled behind the mask and then gestured for two of it's patrol to investigate. Ghoul eyed the Drac, and it stared back.

They stayed perfectly still, waiting as the Dracs made their way carefully in the direction of the noise. They moved out of sight, and the Drac standing over Frank trembled slightly in anticipation.

Frank didn't dare to breath.

_Gerard, you idiot._

“He didn't run so far then,” the Drac said softly.

Frank said nothing.

Suddenly, the sound of ray gun blasts filled the air.

The Drac yelled it's outrage. It pulled it's gun out of Frank's mouth, and released him, allowing the Killjoy to fall to the ground. He was quickly grabbed by another of the Killjoy's Drac captors, and dragged back into position, thrown to the ground beside his comrades, who were all giving him concerned glances. He gave them what he hoped was a reassuring smile, but the attempt probably resembled more of a grimace. 

The lead Drac, meanwhile, had marched away from it's hostages, it's gun raised, rushing after the slaves who had clearly ignored their instructions.

“We were told to capture Poison alive! They will destroy all of us if-”

The Drac broke off. It stared ahead, it's locked on the the crumpled forms of the two Dracs, their bodies still smoking from the numerous shots they had just been blasted by.

The “broken” Party Poison had fought back. And he had won.

The Drac heard a noise and it leaped back desperately, gasping in shock as a blast whizzed past it's ear. The BL/I drone, now stood like a sitting duck, fired off a shot of its own but it had nothing to aim at. Realising it's folly, the Drac dived for cover. Another shot narrowly missed it as it crawled hurriedly towards a large rock.

Then, Party Poison's voice rang out.

“Let them go. And then get the hell out of here, you Drac bastards.”

The leader Drac raised an eyebrow beneath it's mask.

“Or what?” It shouted back.

“Or I'll kill you all!” Came the arrogant response. “You've got five minutes to get the fuck out of my zone.”

“ _Your_ Zone?”

“That's right.”

The lead Drac paused for a moment, considering it's next move, and then, after a moment of nervous indecision, it stalked the area where the Killjoys were now being held, marching up and down, staring furiously in the direction that it now knew it's quarry was to be found.

“If we attack, he'll pick us off one by one. That passageway is too small for us to try to overpower him with numbers.” Another Drac, the second in command, the Killjoys had surmised, offered to it's superior.

The leader nodded in reply. “We must send for reinforcements. We need to move this along,” it replied. “More rebels could arrive here at any time. Plus, it's not safe out in the open in this section of the Zone during the night.” It gestured to it's fellow Drac. “See to it.”

The Drac nodded, and moved off, towards their transporter.

Suddenly, the leader seemed to come to a decision. It stalked towards Frank, gripped him by the hair, and dragged him forward a few feet before throwing him once more to the ground.

Frank fought back with all he was worth, but he quickly found himself pinned to the ground.

“This is not a game, Party Poison!” The Drac yelled. “I now know you can hear me. You can probably see me.” It kicked Frank in the ribs, causing the brunette to moan. “Just in case you cannot, you should know that I have Frank Iero in front of me. This man is important to you, is he not?”

Frank's insides knotted. He glanced over at Mikey and Ray, who were staring back, their fears evident. Frank shared their panic. He wasn't worried for himself though, all of his concerns were for his boyfriend.

Frank didn't doubt that Gerard had revealed his location to save his life.

The fucking idiot.

_Stay hidden, Gerard. Don't you dare try to do anything fucking stupid. Not for me._

The Drac glared down at Frank.

“You love this man?” It yelled, still addressing the hidden Gerard, and then it inclined it's head, as if it waiting for a reply.

But none came.

“Don't you love him, Gerard Way?”

Again, it paused for a response and, as before, there was only silence.

The Drac raised it's gun.

“You will surrender to us, Killjoy,” the Drac called; “Or he will suffer.”

And then the drone took aim and coolly shot Frank in his lower right leg. Frank gasped, the sudden sharp pain taking him by surprise, but he tried to hold in the cries, not wanting Gerard to hear his agony. This became a futile effort however, when the Drac stepped forward and pressed it's boot down against his new wound. Tears sprang into the Killjoys eyes as he screamed in agony and rage, writhing helplessly on the ground. It hurt so damned much, and the Drac wasn't letting up.

“You hear that, Poison?” It shouted. “Can you hear his screams? I promise you, this is just the beginning.”

Gerard was still in his hiding place, lying flat on the ground, concealed by the sign that had become his security. He was covering his ears, but that did not block out Frank's agonised cries. Gerard whimpered, he had never felt so helpless. All he wanted to do was to go to Frank, to save his life and keep him safe. But he had heard Frank's desperate cries for him to stay out of the way, to get out of there and to keep running. 

But, he couldn't stand by knowing how much Frank was suffering.

He would not let this happen.

With a heavy heart, he got as quickly to his feet as he could, cursing quietly from the shooting pain caused by his damned ankle. Taking a deep breath, he then stumbled forward a few feet. He held his hands up, in a typical surrender pose, and prepared to call out to the Drac to stop.

At that moment, he heard Frank's desperate shouts, calling out to him, and he froze at once.

“Don't you give up, Gerard!” Frank was yelling, his voice quivering thanks to the extreme pain he was in. “Don't worry about me. You know what they'll do to you if you go with them. Don't make me lose you, Gerard. Not like that.”

His words were cut off then, and he screamed once more. Gerard thumped his fists against his head, desperate to block out those cries. He let out a low sob as he sank slowly to his knees.

_Frankie, I'm so sorry. Forgive me._

When the Drac had completed it's brutal attack on him, Frank was left lying on the ground, bloodied, bruised and barely conscious. The Drac had moved back from him, and was breathing heavily. 

“This is not working,” it noted, more to itself. “This is taking too long.”

It's furious gaze locked with Ghoul's. The Killjoy was gasping, thankful for the small respite from the pain.

“I was mistaken, Ghoul,” the Drac muttered. “I thought you mattered more to him than you in fact do. You are clearly nothing but a convenient fuck for him.” It raised it's gun once more. “Which makes you now surpass to requirements.”

Frank knew his time was up. He closed his eyes, and thought of Gerard, waiting for the sound of the gun fire that would end his life.

But it never came.

“Return him to the others.” The Draculoid snapped. “He is useless.”

“Sorry about that,” Frank ground out as he was pulled up and guided back to the other Killjoys. His Drac companions were half dragging, half supporting him across the sand. They released him, and he slumped to the ground, trying to continue speaking despite the agonising pain currently ripping through him. “I guess I’m just no fun to torture.”

The Drac regarded him for a moment. 

It then turned, and pointed directly at Mikey with it's gun.

“Bring him to me.”

The reaction was immediate. Frank swore viciously at the Drac, while Ray tried in vain to free himself from his cuffs, forcing himself to his knees.

“No!”

The Drac was watching them closely. It seemed intrigued.

“We'll see how much Way cares for his own brother,” the leader mused. “If his reaction is any where near as dramatic as yours, we should end this quickly.”

“Don't do this,” Ray snapped, having worked the gag out of his mouth. He watched helplessly as Mikey was dragged away from his side. “Leave him alone. Don't you fucking touch him!”

Mikey, struggling valiantly, was thrown at the leader's feet, his own gag ripped from his mouth. He stared up at the drone with wide, frightened eyes.

“Stop!” Ray was shouting. “Don't hurt him.”

Frank was also trying to scramble forward, being restrained by a Drac. “You fucking piece of company shit.” He yelled. “I'm going to rip your heart out if you touch him, do you hear me?”

The leader Drac only chuckled, amused at their outbursts. It stroked Mikey's cheek with one finger, apparently enjoying the man's obvious discomfort.

Only Bert remained still. Frank rounded on him furiously.

“You one of us or not?” He hissed, spitting in rage. “For God's sake, help us.”

Bert didn't attempt to reply. He was still gagged, unlike Ray he hadn't tried to dislodge the rag stuffed into his mouth. He had kept to the back, away from the watchful eye of the Dracs. He was kneeling up, an expression of concentration on his face. But then, with one eye on the Drac nearby, Bert smirked at Frank and winked at him.

And then held up his unrestrained hands, holding up the now now unlocked handcuffs up by one hand for Frank to see, while in his other hand he held a small metal device. The tool he had obviously used to free himself with. Then, he quickly resumed his previous position, his face bleak as he watched the sight in front of him.

Frank was incredulous.

_What the fuck?_

The leading Drac, oblivious to Frank and Bert's exchange, smirked down at Mikey, and then grabbed his arm roughly.

“Gerard Way!” It shouted. “In case you cannot see us, your brother has now joined me and I am holding a certain shooter gun that may be familiar to you.”

Frank whimpered. He knew exactly what was going to happen.

_Fuck, Mikey._

He gaped at Bert, jerking his head in anger.

Bert was free. Why the hell was he just sitting there, allowing this to happen?

Bert held up a hand, appealing for Frank to remain calm. He then gestured for the smaller man to move closer, and Frank obeyed, dragging himself over to Bert as discreetly as he could and then slumped down before him, his back to the other man. He heard a quiet whistling noise and knew Bert was using his device to loosen Frank's cuffs, as he had done to his own.

Frank trembled impatiently, watching with horror as the Drac held the shooter gun against Mikey's bare arm. Frank knew how much this was going to hurt and his heart went out to Mikey.

The brunette also knew only to well that Gerard would never stand by and watch Mikey suffer. 

_Hurry up, Bert._

The Drac leader was still gazing in the direction it knew Gerard was hiding, scanning the small pathway, waiting for some sign that he would give up. When none was forthcoming, the Drac felt a rush of excitement as it's finger squeezed the trigger of the torture device it had pressed against the younger Way's arm.

“Lets start with level four,” the Drac remarked loudly. It brought it's face closer to Mikey's, clearly revelling in the man's panic. “How much pain can you withstand, Kobra Kid? Are you as weak as your brother?”

Mikey, shaking with hate and the fear of what he was about to endure slowly gripping him, gritted his teeth.

“Fuck you,” he growled.

The Drac shrugged, and then injected a dart directly into Mikey's skin.

Ray swore loudly. Bert's frown turned into a grimace and Frank called out to his friend, trying to reassure Mikey, and Gerard, any way he could.

He knew it was pointless.

Mikey's eyes went wider, and he stared at the Drac in horror. The Drac merely gazed back calmly. And then, the Killjoy began to scream. He fell onto his back and began to writhe, slamming his fist into the sand, whimpering helplessly as the evil drug took hold. Tears cascaded down his face as pain more intense than he had ever known swept over him. He was burning from the inside, his very blood was boiling in his veins.

There was no hope, no fight left in him. Nothing but the pain.

He was going to die. Right there, in the sand. 

He couldn't help himself. He screamed one word, desperate to see one person in the world. If his life was about to end, then he wanted his big brother with him.

“Gerard!”

And finally, the pain began to subside. Slowly, Mikey's senses returned to him and he was aware that he was lying on his side, sweat covering every inch of him. As he focused, he saw the concerned faces of his fellow Killjoys staring back at him. 

Ray was in tears. For some crazy reason, Mikey actually wanted to comfort his friend. He blinked, trying to send a silent message to his comrades that he was okay. Even though he knew he wasn't.

Frank looked ready to kill. Bert would not meet his gaze.

Mikey couldn't control his trembling. Nor did he want to move. Every part of him was in agony.

The Draculoid was standing over him, looking in the direction of the small clearing. It waited, watching for Gerard to show himself.

When he didn't, the drone jerked his head, and then reached for Mikey again.

“No,” Mikey sobbed. He knew he was being weak, and letting Gerard down, but he couldn't help it. He was terrified.

He didn't want to die like this. He wanted Gerard there.

The Drac took a firm hold on the man's arm.

“Level Five,” it hissed. It brandished the shooter.

“Please.” Mikey could only moan. 

“Your brother has the power to put a stop to this,” the Drac replied loudly. “It's his decision, not mine.” 

And again, Mikey felt the sharp pain of the needle as it entered his arm.

He whimpered. And waited for the torture.

It came quickly. Once more, Mikey screamed until he was hoarse.

Gerard was close by, listening to his brothers tortured cries. He fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face. He couldn't stand by and listen to this. He just couldn't. Mikey was his responsibility, he had sworn to his parents that he would protect him. He would not allow the Better Living scum to torture his kid brother while he stood near by, hiding like a coward. He owed Mikey everything.

Deep down, he knew that if he surrendered then he would be handing a lot more than just his life to the enemy. He was well aware of what Korse's plan had been, and he was sure the intentions remained the same. If he was captured and taken to the City, he would be broken and reprogrammed, and then forced to murder all of his family and friends anyway. 

The Dracs knew that his brother was his weakness. But what choice did Gerard have? He knew what Mikey was going through. He had to spare him more of that ordeal. 

He couldn't let them break Mikey like they had broken him.

That hated distorted voice suddenly filled the air.

“You would let your brother suffer for you, Gerard Way? You are not the man we were told about clearly.”

Gerard began to shake. He wanted to kill this Drac as badly as Korse. He wanted to watch it die horribly.

It called out again. “Level six, Way!”

Mikey's screams seemed to intensify and Gerard slammed his fist into the wall beside him. He repeated this action until his fist was bloodied and bruised. 

His mind was made up. He had to stop this. Now.

He staggered forward, limping thanks to his still broken ankle.

He yelled out as he stumbled along. 

“Stop!” He tried to contain the tremor in his voice. “You win. Leave him alone.”

There was the mixed sound of exciting murmurings and angry curses. And then, a shout that was unmistakably Frank.

“Gerard, just get the fuck out of here!”

Then, a muffled grunt. Gerard knew Frank had been hit. He closed his eyes. What could he say? They had all suffered for him, and he had let them all down.

_I'm sorry, Frankie._

“You will move into the open, Poison,” the Commander-in-Chief shouted. “Keep your hands above your head. If you try to trick me, your friends will pay for your stupidity. Again.”

Gerard did as he was told. He gritted his teeth as he forced himself on. Finally, he moved into the sight of the Draculoids. He looked towards the drone that was clearly in charge, and then his gaze swept across Mikey, lying crumpled at his feet, and then to Ray, Frank and Bert, who were all watching him, fury on their faces. His eyes lingered on Bert, who shook his head at Gerard desperately.

“You have to do something about this,” Frank hissed.

“Just stay still,” Bert snapped back.

Thankfully, none of the Dracs were bothered by their exchange. All of their attentions were focused on Gerard. 

The Drac leader brought it's boot down hard on Mikey's chest, causing the man to whimper, and Gerard started forward.

The Drac raised a hand warningly.

“I don't think so, Killjoy!” The Drac snapped. “Drop the gun, for your brother's sake!”

Gerard hesitated for a moment and then obeyed, allowing his weapon to slip out of his grasp, to the sandy ground below. Three Dracs then descended upon him, scooping his gun up and then forced him to his knees.

He grunted in pain, but otherwise didn't resist. His gaze was locked on Mikey, who was still lying at the leader's feet, not moving.

The Drac leader was regarding Gerard closely. From it's body language, it was obviously feeling very triumphant. It covered the Killjoy with it's blaster, and then addressed him.

“Gerard Way, otherwise known as the Killjoy rebel, Party Poison. You are under arrest for numerous crimes against Better Living Industries.”

Gerard was smirking. The Drac ignored him.

“These crimes include, but are not limited to, murder, assault, theft, spreading lies, inciting riots and violence, brainwashing others to your cause, conspiring with known outlaws and malicious damage. Do you have anything to say in response to the charges?”

A crazed smile spread across Gerard's face. “Oh plenty,” he retorted. “But I'll say what I need to to the boss woman, not some common lackey.”

The Drac's face burned. Gerard continued.

“I'm assuming I will meet the all powerful lady in charge?” Gerard questioned. “I think I've earned that.”

The Drac paused. “Oh yes,” it replied. There was a cruelness to it's distorted voice. “You'll meet her.”

Gerard didn't like the sound of it's tone. He said nothing, glaring back coldly.

“We will take the brother too.” The Drac announced, pointing down at the still trembling Mikey. “He will have his uses, I feel.”

Gerard reacted to that. “If you hurt him again, I'll-”

The Drac raised a hand. “You'll what? Talk me to death?”

It laughed loudly, dragging Mikey to his feet. Mikey couldn't stand unsupported; he leaned against his Drac tormentor for support. His eyes met Gerard's and their was a silent connection between the brothers.

Party Poison sighed. He knew further threats were useless. He fell silent, but his eyes were blazing.

“Take them to the transporter,” The Drac instructed. “We must leave at once.”

The Drac leader then glanced back at the remaining Killjoys. Ray was being held by one of their guards, but Bert and Frank were simply kneeling down, watching the action, but not responding. To the Drac, they were now nothing but an afterthought.

“Execute the rest.” It ordered.

Gerard whirled around at that. He grabbed for the Drac, desperation and rage coursing through him, but was dragged away. 

“No! You don’t need them! Let them go!”

The Drac smirked at him, and shrugged. “They are Killjoys,” it replied. “All Killjoy rebels are targeted for extermination. Only you were to be captured alive. Be grateful we are sparing your brother's life, for now.” It's tone was taunting. “You brought this upon them, Poison. This is your fault.”

Gerard, fighting against his captors holds, yelled in outrage and increased his struggles as one of the Drac drones grabbed his wrists, ready to restrain him with handcuffs as they had done the others.

Frank suddenly felt the cuffs slipping off his wrists. He then felt Bert gripping his shoulder. He glanced at him and Bert nodded grimly. Frank was free. As Bert edged towards Ray, Frank instantly began to feel around in his pocket, his eyes not leaving Gerard's. The brunette knew exactly what he was looking for. Thanks to Korse, he might just have a way out for them all. 

He found what he was searching for, and pulled out three of the grenade balls. He looked at them, remembering what Korse had told him. Some had timer capabilities, some didn't. The balls would either explode as soon as he pressed them, or he would have ten seconds to act. Either way, he would cause a diversion. 

He looked over at the Transporter. That was his target. Frank frowned. He had a good aim, and a good throw, but was the vehicle close enough for him to hit? 

Frank shrugged. Only one way to find out.

He took a deep breath.

Frank got slowly to his feet. “Hey, ass-wipe!” He called, and all the Dracs turned as one to regard him. He scoffed. “You need to get your fucking filthy hands off of my boyfriend.” Frank snarled, and then didn't wait for a reply. He threw three of the balls at the party of Dracs beside the Transporter, the vehicle that was waiting to ferry Gerard to the City and to his fate. Frank's aim was true. The Dracs only had the time to wonder what was happening, before the balls made contact and the resulting explosion ripped through them and their vehicle. 

Gerard, who had read Frank's intention despite not knowing what he had planned, had thrown himself to the ground, knowing the damage the grenade balls could cause. Though he was not close enough for the fire engulfing the vehicle to harm him, the force of the explosion sent him flying through the air, the leading Drac right beside him. They both crashed to the ground, gasping for breath.

Gerard moaned. His poor broken body screaming it's outrage at him. He couldn't blame it.

As the Drac and Gerard regarded each other, all Hell broke loose around them. 

Frank was on his feet, throwing himself at the nearest Drac, knocking it to the ground and wrestling it's ray gun from it's grasp. Ignoring the pain shooting up his body, Frank pointed the Drac's own gun at it's masked face, and grunted satisfactorily as he pulled the trigger. Bert managed to free Ray just as Frank offed their other remaining guard, and Ray jumped to his feet at once and ran to the still unmoving Mikey.

The leader Drac gazed at the scene before it, stunned as it saw it's Drac team being destroyed in seconds. The leader shook it's head, trying to clear the confusion. It didn't understand. How had the situation changed so dramatically, so suddenly? 

Recovering quicker than the devastated Gerard, who was in so much pain he couldn't even begin to consider fighting back, the Drac grabbed at the Killjoy and then flung him away with a yell of anger. Gerard fell to the ground again with a gasp. He was exhausted. He couldn't move. He could only watch, horror struck, as the Drac raised the shooter gun it had managed to keep hold of, and then it stalked towards the Killjoy, the gun at the ready. Gerard cowered, trying to crawl backwards, desperate to escape the fate which was worse than death for him. The Drac followed him. Pinning the red head down to the ground beneath it, the Drac placed the gun against Gerard's arm.

“Please,” Gerard moaned. “Please don't.”

The Drac laughed.

“Pathetic,” it hissed. “The Company already owns you. The Exterminator made sure of that.” It laughed. “You are a shadow of your former self.”

Gerard closed his eyes.

The problem was, he _agreed._

Before the Drac had the chance to inject Gerard's nightmare into him once more, the drone was suddenly, and violently, thrown off of the despairing Killjoy. Gerard opened his eyes carefully, hardly daring to hope, and then his heart soared when he saw that a furious Frank had flung himself at the Drac, and was now straddling it, the drone helpless beneath the raging Killjoy. As the red head watched, Frank began to pummel the unfortunate Draculoid that had dared to threaten Gerard.

“You and your fucking precious company will never hurt any of us again,” Frank spat. “Do you fucking hear me? No more.”

He continued to rain down blow after blow, punch after punch, onto the Drac's face and upper body. Gerard stood a short way away from him, watching Frank working out his anger. He knew he would beat the drone to death and he didn't see any point in stopping him. 

The Drac had tortured both Frank and Mikey. It deserved to die. And Frank taking out his issues on the right enemy was all for the good.

Maybe now, they could move on.

Under the force of the blows, the voice distorter the Draculoid was using to protect it's identity became dislodged. And as Frank grabbed the drone around the neck and began to squeeze, the Drac let out a stifled cry.

The whimper was soft, but evident. It took Frank completely by surprise.

A Draculoid was never allowed to show pain.

But this sound had been pitiful and desperate.

And unmistakably female.

Gerard heard the weakened cry and his head snapped up in surprise. He called out to Frank to stop, and grabbed his friend's arm. Frank had heard the whimper too though, and had frozen, mid punch. 

Trying to catch his breath, Frank tore forward, gripped the Draculoid's mask and ripped it off, revealing the face of the brainwashed person underneath.

Frank gasped.

Gerard's eyes grew wide, as he shook his head stupidly.

“No,” he moaned. “Please.”

The woman stared hatefully at both men, breathing painfully. She eyed them, drawing back, her gaze wary.

Frank eyed Gerard warily, unsure what to say.

The red head closed his eyes, and held a shaky hand up to his head, as if he were in pain.

He _was_ in pain, more than he could bear. His heart was breaking.

“I thought you were dead,” he whimpered.

She just stared at him, confused.

Gerard opened his eyes again, and took a wary step towards her, pausing when she pulled away, her back against the wall. She looked terrified.

Gerard reached out a careful hand towards her but she drew away, practically spitting at him like a trapped animal.

The Killjoy spoke one more word, his anguish clear from his tone. One word that changed everything.

“Lindsey...”

TBC


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still enjoying this, guys? I hope so...

Gerard stared. He couldn't believe his eyes. How could it be Lindsey? How could she be there? And what the hell had those bastards done to her?

He reached out another weary hand to her, and she snarled at him, warning him to keep away. Gerard was reminded of a wild animal, pinned down, scared and desperate to stay alive. 

Only, this wasn't a wild animal. This was LynZ. _His LynZ._

“Lindsey,” Gerard whispered, “Sugar-”

“Keep away from me!” She hissed. “Rebel scum!”

Frank was still beside Gerard, staring at Lindsey. He didn't know what to do. He was as astounded as Gerard. He opened his mouth to say something, changed his mind, and closed it again. 

Gerard, at a loss of what else to do, tried to speak again.

“Do you recognise me?” He asked, brokenly.

She laughed. “Oh yes. I know you, Party Poison, Feared leader of the Killjoys. Soon to be our Company's bitch!”

Suddenly, she leaped for him, attacking him, trying to claw at his face and eyes with her nails. Frank grabbed for her, to pull her off of Gerard, but she clung on. Gerard didn't fight back; he just covered his face with his hands, trying to protect himself. Hitting out at Frank furiously, she forced him away by kneeing him in the groin, and then she grabbed at Gerard's hair, trying to do any damage she could. She was screaming at him, yelling insults.

Finally, Frank knew he had no other alternative. Rushing to stand behind Lindsey, he struck her hard across the back of the head with the handle of his ray gun. She fell forward at once, knocked out by the force of the blow, landing on top of the now bloodied, and stricken, Gerard.

“I'm so sorry, Gee;” Frank apologised at once. Gerard waved away his apology with his hand, knowing there had been no other option. He tenderly moved Lindsey off of him, careful not to harm her further. He couldn't take his eyes off of her. For him, it was as though he couldn't even be sure that if he did stop looking at her, she wouldn’t just vanish into thin air. 

The redhead looked over at his brother and Ray, who was kneeling beside Mikey, tending to him, and clearly comforting him. Ray glanced over, noticed Gerard was looking and gave him a nod of encouragement, indicating Mikey was going to be fine.

Frank sighed. At least that was something. Mikey was strong, like his brother. He would recover from his torture.

Torture he’d suffered at the hands of his sister in law.

Frank brought a weary hand up to his forehead. This was such a mess.

He placed a supportive hand on Gerard's back and kissed his neck. Gerard didn't react, but neither did he complain.

“Gee-” Frank began.

Suddenly, both men jumped when they heard a quiet voice speak up.

“Jeez, this is fucked up.”

Bert was standing behind them. As Gerard and Frank turned to face him, Bert placed a hand on the red head's shoulder.

“I'm sorry, Gerard.” He told him. There was finality in his tone.

The older Way swallowed hard, nodded in response, and then looked back down at Lindsey. He didn't know what else he could say. 

Frank's heart went out to him.

Bert paused, watching Gerard for a moment, and then finally added softly, “We've got no choice.”

Gerard glanced back at him, and then shook his head, confused. “I don't understand?”

“It's simple. Gerard.” Bert turned quickly, his ray gun in his hand and pointed it directly at Lindsey's temple. He gazed down at her, grim faced, as he prepared to fire and end her life.

Frank gasped, raising his hands in alarm. “Bert? Wait! What the-”

“We gotta put her out of her misery, Frank. It’s the only way.”

Gerard stared up at Bert, his eyes wide in horror. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?

Bert frowned, hesitating, his gun still aimed at Lindsey's head.

“She's one of them! We have to.”

“Put the gun down, Bert.” Gerard was up, and had pushed Bert's gun to one side, so it was no longer covering Lindsey’s unconscious form. He quickly moved to stand between the now fuming Bert and his ex-love, his eyes flickering to Frank's for a second, before returning to rest on Bert once more.

He crossed his arms over his chest, and glared daggers at the other man.

“You think I'm just gonna stand by and let you-”

Bert actually burst out laughing. Frank was taken aback by his heartlessness and gave Gerard a worried glance. A look of fury had spread across Gerard's face as he watched Bert. “You think this is funny?” He asked him, softly, his eyes glinting dangerously. He pointed at the prone body on the ground. “ _That's my wife.”_

“Correction,” Bert retorted, attempting to stifle his laughter. “She _was_ your wife, buddy. That's not Lindsey any more, Gerard.”

“You're not going to hurt her.”

Bert gave Frank a hopeless glance then, as if he wanted Frank's support. When that wasn't forthcoming, he brandished his gun at Gerard, angrily. “Just listen to me! Don't be a fucking idiot, Gee. I know this is hard but you know that thing is not _your_ Lindsey. That is a Draculoid lying there and you know as well as I do that it is too fucking dangerous to keep it alive. Now, move out of the way, and let me finish it!

“No.” Gerard's face was set. “I don't give a shit what you think she is. You are _not_ touching her, Bert.” He raised his voice, so they could all hear. “No one is fucking laying a finger on her!” He narrowed his eyes, as he addressed only Bert once more. “Do I make myself clear?”

Bert shook his head in surrender. “She will turn on you, Gerard.”

The red head moved forward, rage pulsing through him. He knew the hate he felt wasn't really directed at Bert. Somewhere, deep down, past all the horror and grief he was experiencing, he knew the other man was speaking the truth. The soulless creature before him was no longer Lindsey. But, in that moment, none of that mattered. 

Gerard had to believe that there was a way back for her. He had to try.

He could not, would not, listen to Bert.

So, therefore, he had to shut him up. He reached for his ray gun.

Frank was suddenly beside Gerard, a reassuring hand on his arm. Gerard attempted to brush him aside but Frank was not budging. 

“It's okay, Gee,” he said softly, though knowing full well that nothing was “okay” about their situation. “You need to calm down.”

Gerard's lip quivered as he regarded his boyfriend.

“There has to be a way of getting through to her, Frank;” Gerard whispered. “I just got her back. Don't ask me to give her up now.”

Before Frank could respond, Bert spoke up again. His tone was one of pure frustration. “You _haven'_ t got her back, Gerard. There's _no_ coming back for her. She's dead, just like you thought she was. Nothing has changed, except you’ve got to see a Zombie version of your wife, and, like a Zombie, she will turn on you. She's already tortured Frank and Mikey today. And, given half the chance, she would have tortured you as well, with no hesitation. Her own fucking husband!” He grabbed hold of Gerard's wrist and squeezed. “You need to listen to me. You think I don't know how this feels? I do. I'm sorry, I really am so fucking sorry, but you cannot trust her. She's not Lindsey. She's the enemy.”

Gerard was breathing hard. Frank eyed him, warily, waiting for Gerard to make a move. The brunette could see that his boyfriend was trembling with anger, just about managing to keep his fury in check. Frank could also see that Gerard was desperate to shut Bert up, to make him take those words back. But, there was one thing stopping Gerard, one thing alone keeping him from losing control: Frank's gentle hold on the other man's hand.

Frank placed an arm around the other man then, and spoke softly into his ear.

“I'm here, Gerard. You're okay. We'll figure this out.”

Gerard glanced back over at Lindsey for a moment and then, with one last furious glare to Bert, he pulled free of Frank's hold and quickly returned to Lindsey's side. Falling to his knees beside her, he leaned forward and brushed her hair away from her eyes. He didn't speak, he didn't need to. All his emotions were on display.

Frank swallowed hard. Then, his gaze met Bert's. The other man shook his head in annoyance, and then his lips curled up into his most favourite sneer. He turned then, and stomped away, back over to Ray and Mikey, who were stood to one side, watching the whole conversation closely. Ray was supporting the younger man, a protection arm around Mikey's shoulders, holding him close.

Frank watched, irritated, as Bert moved to them, jerked his head in Gerard's direction and had a quick, clearly frustrated, exchange of words.

Mikey's head snapped round, and as he regarded his brother, his anger was perfectly evident.

Frank sighed and prepared himself, as a very weakened Mikey made his way carefully towards him, Ray not far behind.

Mikey went to push past Ray, clearly wanting to confront his brother, but Frank quickly blocked his path.

“It was Lindsey?” He blurted, to Frank. “She did that to me?”

Frank grimaced. “Mikey, you need-”

“No!” Mikey snapped, raising a hand. “How the fuck was it Lindsey? How could she-?” He broke off, took a couple of deep breaths and then continued. “Gerard said she was dead!”

Gerard was suddenly beside them, standing in front of Mikey. His younger brother couldn't look him in the eye. “You told me she was dead,” he repeatedly, more softly. 

Gerard nodded. “I know. I thought she was.” Without a moment's further hesitation, Gerard held out his arms and Mikey fell into his embrace. Gerard tightened his hold while Mikey clung onto his big brother, as if his life depended on it. “I'm so sorry,” Gerard whispered. “I'm sorry, Mikes.”

Finally, they let go and stood away from each other. Mikey wiped a tear away quickly and then he finally met Gerard's gaze. “I know,” he whispered gently. “It wasn't your fault. You saved me.” He stared down at the ground, before adding, almost to soft for the others to hear; “I can't believe it was her.”

The four Killjoys stood there together, just like that, for a few moments. No one knew what to say.

Finally, Ray cleared his throat. “What are we going to do now?”

There was steeliness to Gerard's tone as he replied; “We keep going. We have an appointment with the Doctor.”

Frank bit his lip. “And what about Lindsey?”

Gerard threw him a funny look. “We can't leave her here, can we? She won't survive left alone in the open like this. Even if they send reinforcements, we can’t know that they will get here in time. And besides, I’m not leaving her behind with those fuckers. We'll take her with us, the Doc might be able to help her.”

Ray frowned. “She's been reprogrammed, Gee. There's no-”

Gerard didn't want to hear it. “Ray, you drive. Mikey, get in the car, you need to rest after what she,” he paused, correcting himself; “What THEY did to you. We don't know how badly the drugs are gonna affect you. We need to get moving.” He shot Frank a look. “Help me put her on the back seat, Frankie?”

What else could Frank say? Stepping toward Lindsey, he nodded grimly. 

“If I may make a suggestion...”

Bert was standing a few feet away from them, watching the exchange closely. They all paused to look up at him. He smiled, and then gestured to his motorbike, currently resting alongside the Trans Am. “It will be safer to put her on the back of the bike and let her ride with me.” He said, quietly. He ignored the murderous looks Gerard was throwing him, and carried on. “She could wake up any second and the first thing, as a Drac, she will try to do is to follow her last orders.” He blinked. “And, unless I'm mistaken, those orders were to kill the Killjoys.”

Frank tutted loudly and placed his hands on his hips, staring at Bert indignantly. “Thanks for the offer, Bert;” he replied. “Really helpful.”

Gerard spoke up. “I want her close to me.” He lowered his voice. “We've been apart long enough.”

There was an uncomfortable silence. Frank looked away. 

Bert hesitated for a moment, and then walked carefully up to Gerard, offering his hand in a symbol of truce.

“I'm sorry,” he told him, quite truthfully. “I shouldn't have threatened her life like that. I know what she meant to you. I know you adored her.” He paused, shooting Frank a sideways glance. Frank had his back to the group now, staring into the distance. A tiny smirk flashed across Bert's face for a split second, and then it was gone. No one noticed. He addressed Gerard once more. “I won't hurt her, you can trust me.”

Gerard took his hand. “It's okay,” he replied, gently. “I know you hate Dracs, and I know you have your reasons. But I can't give up on her. Not without trying to bring her back.”

Bert nodded. “I saw her, you know.” 

Gerard's eyes' widened. “What?”

“I saw her, back at the rebel camp, before we made for that town. She was part of the rescue mission.” He hesitated, suddenly aware of how much affect his words was having on Gerard. Finally, he completed his sentence. “She came to save you.” 

There was a nervous silence. The Killjoys all glanced toward Gerard. 

Gerard covered his face with his hands, devastated.

Frank swallowed the huge lump in his throat and forced his eyes away from his boyfriend, looking down at his feet. 

Gerard suddenly came to life. “According to the maps I checked earlier, there is a Killjoy base 10 miles East. And then, after that, we should find a Gas Station a few miles south east from there.” He paused. “Let’s head there.”

Bert jerked his head. “Good plan,” he noted, and then turned to move towards his bike.

Gerard, nodding to Ray and Mikey, then began to walk over to Lindsey.

Frank slipped his hand into Gerard's, stopping his progress. Gerard stopped at once, turning to regard his boyfriend curiously.

“Frankie?”

“You alright, Gee?”

The question sounded silly, even to Frank.

“I don't know, Frank, to be honest. This shit with Lindsey-”.

“I mean, after the latest rough treatment,” Frank interrupted. He didn't want to talk about the Lindsey situation. Not yet anyway. “You feeling okay?”

Gerard brushed his hair behind his right ear. “Mikey got the worst of it this time.”

“I know, but she was gonna torture you with that fucking shooter gun again. Just how much abuse are you expected to take, for fucks sake?”

Gerard couldn't help but allow himself a small smile.

“I’m not planning on giving up just yet, Frankie.”

Frank raised an eyebrow. “I fucking hope not.”

Gerard chuckled, and then glanced down.

“You took a beating too, baby. And all because I upset you.”

Frank blinked. “What do you mean?”

Gerard was squirming. “Before the Dracs attacked, after we,” he paused, fidgeting, “You know, when you left me…”

 _Oh._ Frank remembered. Shit. That argument seemed an age ago now. “I was throwing a strop, Gee. Nothing that happened was your fault.” He shrugged. “Besides, Dracs can't hit for shit. It didn't hurt much.”

Gerard was unconvinced.

“She kicked the shit out of you, Frank. I saw it all.”

“Yeah, okay, it was tough. But, you know me. I can handle myself.”

Gerard eyed him lovingly, reached out with his right hand, and then caressed Frank's, fingering his bruises affectionately. Frank closed his eyes, leaning closer, enjoying the tender touch. 

But, as soon as he had begun to feel their connection again, the moment was over.

“Lets get going, yeah?” Gerard said, firmly, stepping back.

Frank nodded.

Gerard gave Frank a small but caring peck on the lips, and then stooped down to pick up the sleeping Lindsey. He grimaced, moving gingerly toward the Trans AM, the prone Lindsey lying helpless in his arms. As Frank watched him go, he saw, out of the corner of his eye, Ray taking hold of Mikey's arm gently, and the two of them followed Gerard to the car, Ray aiding the younger man the whole way.

Frank made to move towards the drivers seat.

“Frank.” 

The brunette started in surprise when Bert suddenly appeared in his path, looking him up and down. “How you feeling, pal?”

The small Killjoy gave him a suspicious look.

“Do you care?”

Bert bristled.

“Yes, actually. Fuck knows why.” He leaned closer. “How are the headaches?”

Frank froze. He looked quickly toward the Trans and was relieved to note all of the other Killjoys were well out of earshot. He swallowed. If he were honest, his headache had slowly been getting worse once again, and he could tell that the blinding torture was about to return.

“Hurts,” he replied, simply.

Bert nodded. “I'm not surprised. You need to take more pills, Frank, or the pain will get worse. What use will you be to Gerard, then?”

Frank balled his hands into fists. “I'll take the pills, okay?” He snapped, in response. “Just stop pushing me. I know I need to take them, alright?” To his anger, he knew this wasn't a lie. The pills were his only respite from the pain who couldn't stand, and he knew, with a heavy heart, that Bert was only to aware of that fact too.

“Good,” Bert replied smugly. And he actually ruffled Frank's hair.

Frank retreated at once. They eye balled each other for a few seconds, until Bert realised Frank was waiting for him to move. Raising his hands in a mocking apology, Bert slipped to once side, allowing Frank to pass. As he watched the brunette walk away, clearly in discomfort, he smiled, a knowing smirk, on his lips. 

XXX

Gerard ran a shaky hand through his sweaty and dirty red hair, his eyes not leaving the face of the woman slumped on the ground before him. Lindsey was still unconscious and Gerard had taken the advice of the others and had tied her wrists. All of the other Killjoys were worried and Gerard knew they were right to be so. Lindsey was just another Draculoid to them. He knew that was how he should see her too. This wasn't the spirited, beautiful, inspiring person he had once known. Everything that had made this woman Lindsey, his wife, had been drained out of her, leaving nothing but a shell. And then BL/I had filled that empty space they had created with something knew, someone that suited them. A person with no imagination, no hopes or emotions. Nothing but harmony and peace and the never ending need to obey. 

They had turned his incredible wife into a drone. And had sent her out into the Zones after him. Just another pawn in their sick game. Just another player to aid them in obtaining their ultimate goal: To destroy him utterly and turn him into something as bland, cold and empty as they had done to her. 

Gerard closed his eyes.

How could they do this? Lindsey was an innocent woman. What had she done to deserve this?

He flickered open his eyes again when he heard her moaning in her sleep. He looked at her intently. Could a Draculoid dream? He had never thought about it. Surely one had to have their own mind to be able to dream? Or perhaps, when they were asleep, free of the control, maybe that was when the reprogrammed person became their old self? Maybe Lindsey could see him right now, but him as he was back in the day? Was she on the beach with him, sat on the sand, his arm around her, pulling her close? Was she safe and sound, far away, in her dreamland?

Were they together, in a time when neither of them knew NL/I even existed? Before the bombs dropped?

Was he singing to her?

_Was Bandit there with them?_

Gerard covered his face with his hands. No. He had sworn never to even think of that name ever again. It was too hard for him, too much of a torture to think about the child he had lost. 

“Do you know what happened to her?” He spoke up suddenly, so softly. “LinZ, where did the two of you go?”

She didn't respond. He rubbed at the back of his neck, distractedly. How old would Bandit even be now? The bombs had fallen so many years ago. She wouldn't be a baby any more. She'd be her own person, with her own mind. And if she was anything like her mom and dad, she'd know her own mind, that was for sure. 

Forcing himself to place Bandit at the back of his mind, where he had to keep her to save himself going insane from grief, Gerard's thoughts turned once more to their car journey to the rebel rest house he now found himself in, and thought back to a conversation he had had with Mikey in the Trans. 

His younger brother had slept much of the short journey, his head resting on Gerard's shoulder. At one point, he had groaned, rubbing at his temple.

_“I know it hurts, baby brother. You gotta stay warm, you're shivering.”_

_“I'm in a desert, Gerard. I'm pretty warm.”_

_“Okay, smart-ass! You know what I mean. You'll get a fever if you're not careful.”_

_“I thought I was burning up from the inside. It wouldn't stop. I wanted to die, Gee. I can’t believe you had to go through that all alone.”_

_“I won't let them hurt you again, Mikey.”_

_“Or me you.”_

Gerard closed his eyes, the memory hurting him. It killed him, that Mikey had been put through the same ordeal, because of him. With a heavy sigh, rubbed his trusty yellow gun against the side of his head.

“So, you're taking prisoners now, Poison?”

Gerard's eyes snapped open. Lindsey was staring at him, her startling eyes narrowed in dislike.

“Are you going to torture me, Killjoy? I hear you enjoy that.”

Gerard frowned, and carefully got up onto his knees.

“Like you tortured Frank and Mikey, you mean?”

She snorted.

“They are criminals,” she spat back. “You all chose your paths. You are the enemy of the Corporation, I will do anything in my power to bring every single one of you down.” She leant forward, struggling against her bonds. “ _Whatever it takes.”_

Gerard shook his head, knowing that this was not his Lindsey speaking. This was a clone, saying exactly what she had been conditioned to say. How could a rebel ever have a genuine debate with a Draculoid? It was impossible. 

“Do you know who I am?” He asked her, quietly.

She glared at him. He could sense her confusion.

“You are the Killjoy leader known as Party Poison,” she recited. “Real name, Gerard Way. You and your gang of criminals have been targeted for extermination.”

The red head nodded. “All correct,” he replied. “But do you know who I am _to you?”_

She paused. She titled her head slightly and regarded him. “I don't understand,” she snapped.

Gerard let out a loud sigh as he rose to his full height and then slowly walked towards her. He saw how she recoiled away from him and it made his heart hurt. He still cared about her, how could he not? They were still married. The facts that she was scared of him bothered him more than he had thought it would. He had expected her fear, after all, he was the infamous Party Poison. But, if he was truthful, he had prayed that she would awaken and there would be some recognition, some sign, no matter how small, that would send him a signal that she was still in there somewhere. That he could look in her eyes and see something of Lindsey looking back at him. But there was nothing. Because, no matter how hard it was for him to admit, this was not Lindsey. It looked like her, talked like her, moved like her. But it wasn't her.

She was gone.

He tossed his head back. Facing that fact would make this whole conversation a lot easier for him to handle. He leaned back against the wall, his arms crossed. She stared back at him, waiting for him to speak again.

She grew impatient.

“Aren't you going to question me?” She snapped.

He paused, happy to let her sweat. Finally, he cleared his throat.

“What's your name?” He enquired his tone stern.

She pursed her lips together. “I am Draculoid No. 345234”

Gerard flinched. So, she really was only a number.

Maybe to _them._ Not to him.

“I didn't ask for your label,” he retorted. “I asked for your name.”

She tossed her head back. “The company has no need for names,” she replied pompously. “We are the same, we are one.”

Gerard actually laughed at that. “Oh please!” He laid his head against the wall behind him. “You were a person once, with your own mind, your own thoughts. Now you’re nothing but a drone. You call that being part of something? You are a shadow of your former self, trust me.”

Her eyes blazed. “I believe in the Corporation and everything we stand for,” she announced proudly. “I despise all rebels. You Killjoys in particular.”

Gerard shrugged. “You think I care that you hate me?”

She was confused by that question. She stayed silent, unsure how to respond.

Gerard swore under his breath. “You don't actually hate me, LynZ. You think you hate me and Ghoul, Jet and Kid because you've been told that you have to. You've been programmed to hate us. Hate is an emotion, something you aren't capable of anymore.” Gerard tapped the side of his head with his finger. “You're not allowed to have an original thought in your head, are you?”

She hesitated, before replying. “What is the point of my own thoughts, emotions? Emotions get in the way. I am happy, content.” She gave him a cold stare. “You don't look happy, Poison. You look tired.”

He laughed coldly at that. He looked out of the window, trying to regain his composure. “It's hardly surprising I'm tired, LynZ.” He replied, sadly. “This shit, it's wearing me down.”

She shrugged. “You could live without all of that stress, all of that pain, Party Poison. You could be free.” She leaned forward, straining on the ropes holding her prisoner. “It's never to late.”

“To late to do what?” He snapped. “To give in to your fucking disgusting corporation? To take the drugs and lose my mind, to become just another BL/I slave? Like you?”

Lindsey shook her head. “I'm not a slave.”

“Like hell you aren't.” He paused. “Or maybe 'sheep' would be a better word.”

“It's for the best!” Lindsey stormed. “You just have to give yourself to BL/I. You could be at peace, Gerard Way!”

“But losing myself?”

Lindsey scoffed.

Gerard eyed her, and then tilted his head. “You did.”

She glared at that. She searched his face, clearly wanted to demand answers from him but she would never give him the satisfaction. To be inquisitive was against the Corporation's policy. As was any sign of using one's own mind.

So, she stayed silent. But didn't meet his eyes.

“Stubborn bitch,” he noted. She still didn't reply. He moved toward the door then, ready to take his leave of her.

“You rebels all deserve your fates,” she suddenly announced. “You will come to regret your pig headed attitude, Killjoy.”

He stopped at the door. And then slowly turned to look at her. 

“What about the town?” He offered, softly.

Her brow furrowed in confusion. She clearly didn't know what he was talking about.

He took a step towards her. “You don't know, do you? You don't know how your precious company brutally murdered hundreds of innocent men, women and children the day you were captured. Tell me, Lindsey. Did they deserve their fates, too?”

She tossed her head back. She was out of her comfort zone now and didn't know how to respond.

He paused, watching her, then pushed further. “Did I deserve mine?”

Her head jerked up then and a cold look spread across her face. “You are a rebel leader. You are a murderer, a rabble-rouser and a thief. You deserve to suffer for the hate and unrest that you have happily spread.”

He smiled. Even she shivered to see that smile. “I already have,” he told her, so quietly she only just heard him, and then he pulled up his shirt, wincing, revealing the bruises, sores and bandages underneath. She stared, clearly stunned at the extent of his injuries.

Gerard swallowed hard, not taking his eyes off of her face. “Korse did this to me,” he told her, his voice breaking. “Because he wanted to. He enjoyed it.”

When she spoke again, it was nothing more than a hiss. 

“You had it coming.”

He let out a cold chuckle. He saw her recoil and he wasn't surprised. He was starting to scare himself.

“Did I have rape coming too?”

She raises an eyebrow, and then once again tried to ease the ropes holding her at bay. 

“So, it is true.” She muttered, “The Exterminator _did_ rape you. There are rumours in the city but I didn't know for sure. How interesting.”

Gerard cringed inwardly at this news. Shame coursed through him. Just how many people were talking about him, laughing about the ordeal he had been put through?

“He ripped me apart to break me, to turn me into something as empty and emotionless as you.” He continued on, trying to keep the tremor from his voice, and failing. “I'd rather die than become like you. And so would the _Lindsey Way_ I knew."

She stopped. She gaped at him then, not understanding what he had just said. Neither did she want to enquire further. She glanced away.

With a sad sigh, Gerard turned and walked carefully towards the door. He didn't try to hide his limp; she had already seen the extent of his injuries. There was not point hiding his weaknesses from her, despite the fact that she was still “the enemy.”

Pulling his shirt back on, and hissing in pain as he did so, Gerard moved to the door and pulled it open. As he did so, she looked up, confusion etched on her face as she watched him leave.

TBC


	15. Chapter 15

Korse was furious. He had waited long enough.

He had been left there for hours; he had no idea exactly how long. There was no method of telling the time in the tiny, white cell he had been instructed to wait in. The scientists had performed all the remaining tests on him and had then filed from the room without a word, leaving him hanging. They had not mentioned how long he would remain in quarantine or even how their latest experiment was progressing.

Had Lindsey succeeded? Were the Killjoys in custody? 

Somehow, Korse doubted it.

The wait was driving him insane.

He knew that he didn't belong in the city any longer. Korse lived, thrived even, out in the Zones, hunting down the runners, bringing the rebels to justice. And he had four particular rebels he was eager to bring down.

He sat on the plain white mattress, his hands held tightly together in his lap, as he stared straight ahead. He was red in the face, his blazing eyes locked on the door, every ounce of him willing it to slide open. 

Finally, his silent pleas were answered, and he heard footsteps just beyond the door, and, at long last, the door was unlocked. Another moment passed, and then the door was open and the Coordinator was stood just beyond it, her cold gaze boring in Korse's.

Without a word, she stepped into the room, walked forward and then gazed down at him, her hands held tightly behind her back. With no kindness in her tone, she demanded; “How are you feeling, Korse?”

He inclined his head to her. “I am fully recovered, madam.” He fixed her with a knowing look, keeping his voice as steady as possible. “And very eager to return to my duties.”

She nodded. “That is well.” She began to march up and down before him, her frustration pulsating from her in waves. “I have disappointing news regarding our experiment. We have lost contact with the subject.”

Korse didn't react. This wasn't exactly surprising. “You think she is dead?” He asked.

The woman shrugged. “I assume so. Or captured perhaps, and they are now trying to break her conditioning. 

Korse chuckled. “They won't succeed.” He snarled. “Nothing can break our control once the conditioning has been completed, and the subject is under the affects of the drugs.”

The woman tossed her head back. “She was not fully broken before the procedure began, remember? And we had not attempted reprogramming with the roaming device before. It was risky. They work on her enough, and if she is strong willed, they could find a way through.”

He balled his hands into fists as he addressed her.

“In that case, do I have permission to return to the Zones, madam?” Korse asked, his desperation evident in his tone. “We cannot leave this Killjoy problem in the hands of newly conditioned drones. I have to get back out there. You know I've passed all fitness tests. I'm of no use to you or the company stuck in here.

She raised a weary hand. “Save me the speech, Korse. The decision has already been made. You are to resume your hunt for the rebels, in particular the Killjoys, immediately.” She searched his face. “We cannot spare many Dracs right now though, Korse. You may take one team only, otherwise you are on your own.” She rubbed her hands together distractedly. “Is that understood?”

He gritted his teeth. “As always, I am expected to perform a very difficult duty with hardly any Dracs!”

She frowned. “There are important events in the City over the next few days,” she told him. “Once they are over, I will send you additional Drac forces.” She sneered. “Better?”

“Excellent.” He clasped his hands together as he stood, a cruel smile on his lips. “I can't wait to see Gerard again,” he said, softly.

“And the girl, his _wife,_ as I have come to understand? What of her?”

“She's already as good as dead to us. If any one could break her programming, against the odds, Way could. Before that happens, we have no choice but to silence her.”

The Co-ordinator tilted her head. “A lot of time will have been wasted in that case, Korse. By a lot of my best workers.”

“Unfortunately, that cannot be helped,” he replied. “You sent a woman to do an Exterminator's job, madam.”

She gave him a withering look. “You had all four Killjoys in your grasp too, Korse, as I recall. They all managed to escape you too.” She eyed him disdainfully. “They also killed you, did they not?”

Korse flinched, his eyes narrowing. He didn't need reminding of his complete failure. “We have lost Lindsey, one way or another.” He hissed, bringing them back onto the matter at hand quickly. “We need to deal with this before she says something to the Killjoys that she shouldn't, and the whole plan is lost.”

She frowned, considering his words. Finally, she gestured towards the door.

“Very well, Exterminator. I leave you to clean this mess up for me. The operative needs to be advised that the experiment has failed, and must be aborted at once. Tell him to see to it.” Her face was expressionless. “I want the subject terminated. Today.” 

Korse nodded. “As you order, Co-ordinator. I will send a patrol, headed by a 'Crow into the Zone to intercept the Killjoys. That will slow them down further to enable me to catch up with them. The tracker is still activated, I assume?”

“Yes,” she confirmed.

He began to move to her, crossing the room in large, eager strides. “Once Lindsey Way has been ghosted, I will pay the Killjoys a visit myself.”

“Don't fail me, Korse.” She warned him. Her tone was cold, and filled with danger.

He pursed his lips together as he walked past her, towards the exit. “You must trust me, madam.” He replied simply.

She raised an eyebrow. “I trust you to kill them for me. Simple as that.”

He paused by the door, staring straight ahead until finally he turned slowly, fixed her with a knowing smile, and bowed his head slightly.

“It's time to bring this sorry saga to a close.” She stood in the centre of the room, her cruel stare once more locked with his. “Bring me Gerard Way, please. Preferably broken, and let’s finish this.”

Korse smirked. He punched in some digits and the electronic door swung open. “It would be my pleasure, ma'am.”

XXX

Gerard was leaning against the door in the small wooden shed they had turned into Lindsey's prison. He crossed his arms over his chest and sighed wearily, watching their captive closely. All his thoughts continued to be muddled. A part of him was still telling him that this woman was simply a Draculoid and keeping her alive was a very dangerous idea. He didn't want to entertain that voice, didn't want to believe that BL/I's control could not be broken.

Next time, it could be him in her place. And he wouldn't want Frank, Mikey and Ray to give up on him. He'd expect them to fight for him, to find him and bring him back out of the abyss he was lost in. The least he could do was to do the same for Lindsey. She had been his whole world once.

She muttered in her sleep and he listened intently, trying to hear her mumbled words but it was useless. He was absolutely certain now that she was dreaming and he wished he could see whatever she saw. Were they good dreams, or did she suffer nightmares? Did the Corporation control her subconscious too? Could the mind-altering drugs affect parts of the mind you didn't even use? Or, was she free when she was dreaming? Did she become “Lindsey” again, and the two of them were together, with their daughter, where nothing and no one could touch them?

Gerard hoped so.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door behind them. Gerard was startled out of his musings and he glanced up quickly. Lindsey had had a nasty episode and they had been forced to knock her out again. She had attacked Gerard ferociously, or had tried to, even though she was, luckily for him, still tied up. She had screamed at him, accused him of trying to kill her for taking away the drugs that kept her alive. It had been hard going, but Gerard had stayed firm. He would get her off of that shit even if it killed them both. 

He had no way of knowing how she would react if she wore to wake up, so he was relieved that she didn't even stir. Moving quickly, he pulled open the door, to reveal Frank, standing there were a can of beans and a fork, and giving Gerard a nervous smile.

“Thought you might be hungry?” He enquired, and gave Gerard a slight wink.

Gerard returned Frank's smile with a grateful one of his own, and hurriedly took the welcome food from his boyfriend. “Thanks Frankie.” He then stepped to one side and gestured for the brunette to enter. Frank did so, being as quiet as he could, so not to disturb the peaceful Lindsey.

“How is she?” He asked.

Gerard frowned. “She's been calm since the attack earlier,” he replied, placing the can of food down beside him. “She only opened her eyes for a second, looked at me and then was out again. She's so exhausted, like she hasn't slept for fucking months.” He clenched his fists. “Whatever they've done to her, they've broken every part of her. Body, mind and soul.” He swallowed. “Just like they tried to do to me.”

Frank reached out and took Gerard's hand. “Tried,” he repeated; “And _failed,_ Gee.”

Gerard met Frank's eyes. He squeezed his hand, and then dropped it. He then looked back over towards Lindsey, and walked towards her.

“She still doesn't know me, even before the madness descended.”

“She was talking to you, wasn't she?” Frank questioned. “You were getting through to her.”

Gerard frowned. “She was talking, yes, which is a big improvement on your usual Drac.” He lowered his eyes to the ground. “But she's not Lindsey.”

Frank fell silent. What could he say? 

There was an uncomfortable silence, and distance, between them before Gerard spoke up again, thankfully moving the subject on.

“How's Mikey doing?” He asked. “I checked on him an hour ago and he was sleeping. I should have been to see him since but I didn't wanna-”

Frank cut across him. “It's okay, Gee. Mikey's awake, feeling okay, and he understands. He knows you're needed here right now.”

Gerard's face was etched with anguish. “What he went through, thanks to me-”

Frank was beside Gerard in a second. “Don't talk bullshit, Gerard. Mikey doesn't blame you, so nor should you.” He edged up onto tiptoes to put his arm around Gerard's shoulders. “He loves you, you know that. And of course he wants to see you, but when you're ready. He told me to tell you to get your head straight though. Good advice, I figured.”

Gerard chuckled, despite himself. “Yeah, well, you know Mikey.”

Frank nodded, and then, took a deep breath.

“What happened back then, Gee? You've always told us that Lindsey and Bandit died-”

“I thought they had.”

“Why?”

Gerard hesitated. Frank waited.

“When BL/I first started to become powerful, you know anyone who spoke out against them were being silenced?”

“Of course I remember,” Frank growled. “We lost a lot of good people, back then.” A painful memory flashed up within Frank. He could hear his name being called desperately, see a glimmer of black hair and recall girls screaming in horror – and then nothing. There was only silence. Frank closed his eyes, trying to shut the images out. When he finally re-opened his eyes, Gerard was eyeing him sadly.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Never really wanna go back there again though.”

Gerard's eyes were watery. “Yeah,” he agreed, gently. “I'm sorry, Frankie.”

“Me too,” Frank said, his voice becoming harder as he again turned his back on the past. His only defence from the horrors he just couldn't face. “What happened to you though, Gee?”

Gerard cleared his throat. “I heard whisperings that BL/I were coming after those of us who had started speaking up against them. Jared had already disappeared by that point, Adam and Jarvis too.” He took a deep breath. “Liam, Noel, Paul, Dave, Robbie, Hayley, Shirley. So many gone. Those of us who'd banded together and tried to stop what we realised was slowly happening right under our noses.” Gerard paused, remembering the friends he'd lost. After a beat, he continued. “One night, after a gig, Billie Joe came to see me and told me to get fucking running and to not stop. Leave the city and run to the Zones. He told me to get in contact with the Doc. I think he's still out there somewhere. I don't remember hearing he'd been captured or ghosted.” Gerard winced. “I hope to God he's okay. Mike and Tre too.”

Frank nodded. “So, you packed your bags and got the fuck out. Understandable.”

Gerard trembled slightly. “Just like he had with the others, Korse came looking for me. Killed my whole family. Only Mikey escaped, cos he'd been with me, you and Ray at the time. Lindsey and Bandit were there too.” Gerard's voice broke as he carried on. “It was a crazy night, do you remember?”

Frank nodded, his face grim. “You wouldn't tell us what was wrong,” he said, quietly. “But we knew something fucking big was going down.”

Gerard swallowed. “Yeah. Mom and Dad had sent Mikey and me away from them that day. They knew Korse was coming for us. They told us to run. So, we did. We got you guys together and we got the hell out. You were staying with Ray; we were all in hiding but knew we couldn't stay in the city. That night, when we had decided to go, I told Lindsey to take Bandit and to get away from me. I thought that would be safer for them. I knew Korse would never give up.” He covered his face with his hands. “I thought I was doing the right thing. She begged me to let her stay with me, told me Bandit and her needed me, but I didn't listen. I left with you guys early the next morning.” He looked at Frank then, unable to prevent the tears from falling. “I left them behind.”

Frank didn't hesitate. He pulled Gerard to him, and embraced him. Then, he whispered in his boyfriend's ear. “It wasn't your fault, Gerard. Any of it. You thought you were doing the best thing by them. Don’t hate yourself.”

“Where's Bandit, Frank?” Gerard whimpered. “Where is she?”

Frank didn't answer. He knew nothing he said would comfort Gerard in that moment. He understood what loosing a child felt like. He knew what Gerard needed that much was him and his support. And he would show the other man that he always had exactly that.

He tightened his grip on Gerard, and then brought his face up to meet the red head's, found his lips, and kissed him.

They stayed there like that, for a moment, both taking strength from the other. Finally they pulled away. Breathing hard, they stared at each other and then looked again at Lindsey. They saw that she was still sound asleep. Only now, she was also smiling.

Frank clutched Gerard's shoulder. “I'll give you some time, Gee. We are gonna have to move on from here soon. We've probably been in one place to long already, and there are lots of Dracs still prowling about tonight.” 

Gerard nodded. “Okay,” he noted.

And, with a quick smile, Frank walked to the door, pulled it open, and took his leave.

Gerard stared at the now empty space, feeling once again just how lucky he was to have Frank. He wished he could give himself to the other man completely but, if truth be told, Gerard was too scared.

What if he lost Frank too?

Gerard's heavy gaze fell once again on Lindsey. He longed for her to wake up, look at him and smile like she once had. As if she believed he was the most wonderful person on the planet. Before he had let her and their daughter down.

He remembered how it had once been. Before the bombs. Just the three of them against the world.

Happy and content.

The perfect family.

And she had always known just what he always needed from her.

Her love, her beautiful mind, her passion. It had matched his own.

It was just in _her._ The way she would put her arms around him, and tell him that she loved him and their daughter more than words could ever say. The way she would take his hands and calm him when the band became stressful, or he had his doubts at what direction they needed to take. The way she would gently stroke his back as he questioned just how good he was, as a singer and a songwriter. She had always been there, knowing exactly what to say, at the exact right time, with a friendly smile or a gentle kiss. She would tell him he was beautiful, inside and out, and he had believed her. And then one day, when he had been at his lowest ebb, she had picked him up; telling him that he needed to follow his heart where ever it led and, if necessary, to take a risk.

It was the best advice he'd ever been given.

He couldn't help but smile at the memory.

As he gazed at her, a long forgotten tune came into his head, a song he had written for her so many moons ago but the words were returning to him, as if it hadn't been years since he had attempted to sing. He hummed the melody, and then, he began to sing:

_“How long... Until we find our way...”_

His throat felt strained and sore. He had not sung anything in so long. He was going back there, back to being the old him. It felt good, like a tiny spark of freedom. For just a moment, he wasn't Party Poison any more, he was just Gerard Way, singing his song to the woman he loved. 

_“In the dark and out of harm...”_

He opened his eyes, surprised at how the words had returned to him as if he had written them only yesterday. It had, in fact, been as good as another lifetime ago.

_“You can run away with me...”_

It took him precisely five seconds to realise Lindsey was not only awake, and looking at him, but she was singing along with him, word perfect.

_“Any time you want...”_

Gerard let out a low gasp. He wondered, for a second, if he was dreaming. He stared at her in shock, not daring to hope that this could really be happening.

“He used to sing that to me,” she whispered. “The man on the beach.”

His heart leaped. He didn't trust himself to speak without getting emotional, the last thing he wanted to do was to alarm her. Not now. So, he nodded, calmly.

“I dreamt of that song,” she continued, her eyes not leaving his. “I was on a beach, with a man. I could never see his face. He sang so beautifully, and held my hand. I wrote on my arm that I would love him forever. But then, he was walking away from him and I was calling to him, a name I can't remember, but he was still walking. I'd lost him.”

Oh God. So many memories came crashing back, sending him hurtling to the edge of a complete break down. Gerard had thought about that day so many times, of a happy time, the happiest he had ever been. When life had been so simple, so serene, and so perfect. Just him and her, the sea and the sand. Just them. For all time.

Before he lost it all.

She was watching him closely. “It was you,” she whispered. When he finally looked back at her, he could see the need for answers in her gaze. “It wasn't just a dream, was it?”

He trembled slightly. “No,” he managed.

“I have no memory of that day, or of you.” She continued. “I feel nothing for you. You are a stranger to me.”

He looked down at those words, unsure how to respond. He couldn't handle this any longer. So near to LinZ, but yet so far. And he was still no closer in getting her back.

“I have a question, Gerard Way;” She muttered.

He took a deep breath, and then nodded to her. “Go on.”

“Before this was done to me,” she said quietly, gesturing to her head, “Were you and I in love?”

Gerard gaped at her.

Outside, in the hot, dirty air, Frank Iero fell to his kneels, his head placed against the brick wall behind him, silent tears running down his face.

He stayed there, just like that, for a few moments, noting the silence from inside. He had expected this. From the moment Lindsey had reappeared. 

He knew he should feel happy for Gerard.

He wanted Gerard to be complete again. And if he needed Lindsey for that, if she was the one to remind him who Gerard Way was, then so be it.

_'I won't get in your way, Gee.'_

Standing slowly, being careful not to be heard, Frank began to walk away, back towards the main camp. With every step he took, a piece of his heart shattered.

XXX

Gerard steadied himself. He had wondered how he would explain this past to her if the moment ever came that he needed to but now it was here, he had no idea what to say. He took a deep breath as she stared at him accusingly.

Finally, his eyes met hers once more. 

“We were together, yes;” he said, as calmly as he could muster. “You and I were in love, and we were happy.”

“I loved you?” She repeated. “A rebel?”

He gave her a small smile. “I suppose I was a rebel, even back then, before the bombs fell. So were you, but not in the sense you mean. We were both musicians, in rock bands.”

She shook her head. “Expressive Music is forbidden.”

His smile died on his lips. “Before individually was banned,” he replied, a slight tremor in his voice, “Before the bombs dropped, and your company came along to enslave everybody, there was music, and freedom, and...”

“And you and I were...” She hesitated, as if incapable of completing the sentence. “We were a couple?”

He swallowed hard. “You could say that. We were married.”

She gaped at him, her eyes searching his face for some hint that this was all a Killjoy ruse to turn her against the corporation but she saw no sign of lies. The Killjoy, her husband, was telling the truth. She closed her eyes tightly. She didn't understand any of this.

“I don't remember you.” She hissed. “I can't remember a life before when I woke up and was sent out with my patrol.” She reopened her eyes and her gaze pierced his. “I don't want...”

“I can help you,” he said, quickly. “If you'll let me.”

“Because I am your wife?”

Gerard paused. He thought over her words, and then shook his head. “No, you aren't my wife any more. I lost my wife. It’s been years since I felt like I was married. I thought you were dead. Whatever magic you and I once had, I don't think we can find it again. Only in yours, and my, dreams. They destroyed everything you once were when they brainwashed you. I get that. I still don't think there's any coming back from that.” He placed a hand against the doorway. “I was told that before, and now, I believe it.”

She blinked. “Then why bother? Why not just kill me?”

“Because if anyone is strong enough to break through the walls that BL/I built up, it's you.”

She shook her head. “I can't turn my back on the company. I need them. I need the drugs.”

“You don't.”

Her eyes blazed. “You don't know how it feels! Those drugs are all I have!”

He fought to remain calm. “No. You have me.”

“You just told me you don't care about me any more!”

He flinched. “I'll always care.”

She trembled. “I don't even know you!”

He reacted to that, moving forward, making as though he wanted to grab her. She immediately recoiled. He relaxed, though there was still a burning fire in his eyes that made her shiver. 

“I don't need you to remember me, Lindsey;” he said softly. “I don't even need you to try. I just want you to trust me.”

She gave him a disbelieving look. “You are a Killjoy,” she spat. “All you do it lie, cheat and trick others. This could all be part of your game. Why should I trust you?”

“Because I want to help you,” he replied, matter of factly. “And because, somewhere deep down, a tiny voice that you are desperately trying to ignore is telling you that I'm not lying to you.” His voice shook. “And, for some reason, you believe that voice, don't you?”

She didn't reply to that. She glanced away, staring at the wall beside her. Finally, she looked back at him. He eyes bore into his. There was a calmness to her now, that crazed panic and hate had left her and she seemed at peace.

Not that there was still any hint of recognition of him on her part, but Gerard reasoned that they were taking baby steps in the right direction. And he would not give up on her.

“If you no longer love me-” She began, but he cut across her.

“I never said that.”

She ignored his interruption.

“I can see that you still care, Gerard Way. But you said that you don't want to pick up where you and Lindsey left off, so what is stopping you?”

He flinched, taken aback by her use of herself as a third person. He pondered on a reply, finally giving up and turning away from her.

She waited, and when she could tell that no response would be forthcoming, she pressed further.

“Do you love someone else?”

He turned around to stare at her. The look she was giving him now, with her head slightly tilted to one side, and almost a playfulness about her, it was so very Lindsey.

And it made his heart long for her.

For the woman gone forever.

He cleared his throat, giving himself a moment before answering.

“I don't need to answer that,” he told her, and turned his back once more.

She shrugged. “Fair enough. But it's obvious you are in love with Fun Ghoul, Poison.”

He spun round, his eyes blazing again, as she actually smirked at him.

“Who told you that?” He demanded.

She smiled. “I just know,” she whispered.

He clenched his fists. “More city gossip?” He spat. “Is my life really that fascinating?”

Lindsey leaned back. “Well, yes.” She replied. “Everyone talks about the Fabulous Killjoys. You are big news, Poison. But that's not how I found out about you and Ghoul.”

His eyes flashed. “Oh, really?” He said, sarcastically. “Then, how did you work it out?”

She considered him, her piercing stare locked into his.

“I don't know,” she said, so quietly. “I realised that I,” she hesitated, before adding; “Just knew.”

His blood run cold, and he shivered. 

She was still in there. And she could still read him like an open book. And she was absolutely right. He _did_ love Frank. And even if he managed to find Lindsey again, he still wanted Frank.

He rubbed his eyes, the confusion and turmoil giving him a headache.

He had to get out of there. He needed a break. 

“I have to go,” he muttered. He didn't know what else to say, or do. So he did what came naturally. He ran. “You get some rest.”

She nodded. And closed her eyes.

Giving her one last pained glance, he unlocked the door hurriedly, and slipped out, without looking back. As soon as he was back out in the dusty, suffocating air, he fell back against the door, taking deep breaths. He covered his face with his hands and tried to hold back the tears.

_Where do I go from here? Am I doing the right thing?_

As he made his way back to the camp, he dried his eyes and gave himself a shake. He had to be strong for the others. They expected it of him, looked towards him for guidance, just as they always had done. He looked up at the starry night and did something he hadn't done since the night the bombs had dropped. 

He prayed.

_God, help me._

TBC


	16. Chapter 16

Frank watched Gerard walking towards the camp, and, after a moment of wanting desperately to call out to him, he sighed, and then threw his half smoked cigarette away. He could see Gerard was upset and he badly wanted to go to him, but, on this occasion, he knew it wouldn't help. Gerard had only once possible choice to make, and that choice did not involve Frank. Not with him being any more than a friend any way. Not any longer. Frank knew the other man was besotted with Lynz, and had been from the first moment he'd met her. It truly had been love at first sight for both of them. He knew she was the one Gerard was meant to be with. He had simply been a convenient replacement in her absence.

He would be what he had always been. Gerard's best friend. And he would do what was best for Gerard; he would let him go.

He watched, approvingly, as Gerard went straight up to where his younger brother was resting by the fire, knelt down beside him, and gave him a huge hug. Frank looked on, pleased, as Mikey threw his arms around Gerard and clung to him. He knew how much the Way brothers had always needed each other, knew how much each men cared for the other. He saw Ray join Gerard and Mikey, putting an arm on both of the brother's backs. More than ever, Frank longed to join them, to complete the group and just be there for his best friends and feel their support for him but, in that moment, he wasn't so sure he deserved it. He was sure Gerard cared greatly for him, but he wasn't what the other man needed. He needed the woman who had made him whole.

Maybe Frank could help him with that.

He whirled round, planning to walk back toward the small barn, but he turned to quickly on his injured leg and he gasped in pain. He swore at his own stupidity as the sudden hot pain suddenly flared up and he grabbed for his leg, trying to stop the pain and keep his balance. When it didn't stop, he stuck his hand into his pocket and pulled out the small bottle of pills he had come to love and despise in equal measure. He hurriedly gulped down two of the tiny pills and then paused, trying to breathe through the pain, waiting for the agony to cease. Sure enough, the medicine did its work almost immediately and his leg stopped throbbing. After a beat, he was able to walk on it again inhibited.

He let out a low sigh. None of this was what he wanted. He knew that the pills were not a good idea, nor was trusting Bert, but what choice did he have? If he stopped taking the drugs, the headaches would return with a vengeance and then he'd be good for _nothing,_ let alone being a Killjoy. Plus, with the added injuries Lindsey's torture had forced on him, the pills were the only stuff keeping him going. And the last thing Gerard, Mikey and Ray needed right then was him causing them unnecessary additional dramas. So, taking the BL/I drugs was the only choice he had. He was also very much aware that coming clean and telling the others what he was doing was not an option for him. They wouldn't understand, and, he was sure, Gerard would be pretty pissed too.

 _'It's only a small dosage,'1_ a voice inside whispered to him. _'Once all the pills are gone, its over. He doesn't need to know.'_

With a heavy sigh, the brunette made his way to the tiny building they were using to hold their captive. After a moment's hesitation, Frank pushed open the door.

Lindsey was sat on some boxes in the centre of the room, her eyes widening when she saw Frank.

She nodded to him.

“Fun Ghoul. It's good to see you.”

He closed the door quietly. “Hello Lindsey.”

Lindsey blinked. “Come to talk?”

Frank shrugged. “Well, it’s an improvement on being tortured, I guess.”

Lindsey didn't respond. Frank stepped closer, his hands plunged deeply into his pockets.

“Gerard only just left,” she informed him. “We were talking about you.”

Frank tried not to react. “Oh?”

“He cares a lot for you.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

“Feelings,” Lindsey echoed, and smiled, as if the word seemed odd to her. “I'm still getting used to feeling _anything._ Feelings are strange. I was taught not to feel.”

Frank snorted. “You were taught to be inhuman, you mean.”

She grimaced. “I'm as human as you are.” 

Frank laughed incredulously. “Oh, is that right? Tell me then, Lindsey, what do you remember of your childhood?”

Lindsey frowned. “I have some flashes of memories,” she replied.

He gestured. “Go on.”

She was quiet for a moment. Finally, she cleared her throat and fixed him with a steely glare. “It’s as if, sometimes, I’m looking through a tunnel to a time long ago. I see myself growing up on a farm, with my numerous brothers and sisters. I see my mom and my dad and remember happy Christmastimes and wonderful summers, all together. Before the bombs dropped, I was working, in the City. My life was complete, I had a boyfriend and he was going to ask me to marry him-”

Frank had heard enough.

“Fucking hell! Those memories the fuckers gave you are fake.” He growled. “And sick. None of that shit was real. You may as well have been born in some fucking operating theatre in some fucking hospital. They saw to it that you had no life before that.”

She was giving him a funny look. He didn't like it.

“What?” He demanded.

A beat passed, and then Lindsey spoke up. “You are taking BL/I drugs, aren't you?”

Frank froze. He was completely taken aback by her forwardness. 

“I don't know what-”

She cut him off quickly. “Don't bother lying to me, Ghoul. I know the signs better than you can imagine. Its there in your eyes, your voice, your behaviour, and the way you walk. I know Gerard is taking pills too, for the affects the torture drugs had on him. I may well be a “new born”, but I was still dependant on my next fix from the earliest moment I do remember. The drugs are all that matter, Frank. Don’t you feel it? As soon as you start, you can't stop.” She eyed him curiously. “Question is though, why would a Killjoy be taking BL/I supplies unless he had no choice?”

He went to deny it, wanted to tell her to shut up and to leave him alone, but he couldn't. What would have been the point?

“For the pain,” he whispered in a tiny, shamed voice.

She glanced at him then. “What pain?” She paused then, realising the answer to her own question. “Of course. I was wondering how you were walking on your wounded leg so easily.” She tossed her head back. “The drugs are to battle the pain caused by the torture, I presume?”

His eyes blazed as he regarded her. “You sound almost proud.”

She shrugged. “It's not pride in my hurting you, Killjoy. But, I cannot be blamed either. I was a Draculoid, you were a rebel. I was following my orders. I did what it was in my nature to do, I behaved as I had been trained to behave. You can't dislike me for something I couldn't help.”

Frank scoffed. “And Mikey? Who can't even bring himself to come here and see you?”

A little red appeared in her cheeks. “I did what I was programmed to do,” she muttered.

“Great excuse.”

Her frown deepened. “It's not an excuse, it's a reason.” She eyed him coldly. “And what about you, Fun Ghoul? Does Party Poison know how much pain you're in? I'm assuming he hasn't tended to the ray blast I gave you earlier? I wonder how he would feel if he knew you were taking BL/I products behind his back-”

“He is more concerned with getting his wife back right now,” Frank retorted, at once. “And that’s the way it should be.”

“And who are you concerned with, Frank?” Lindsey questioned.

Frank grounded his teeth.

“What do you mean?” He asked, in hushed tones. 

She smiled.

“Are you in love with Gerard?” She wasn't embarrassed at all; it was a simple question for her. Frank, however, was aghast.

“I don't have to answer that.”

“Funny,” she noted. “Gerard said the same thing.”

He stared at her. She waited, not taking her eyes off of his.

Finally, he spoke up again. “Yes, I fucking love him. More than anything else in this life. I'd do anything for him. Fucking anything. And that's why I'm letting him go. If he needs me, I'll be right here. Always waiting. Because he's my best friend in this whole shitty, fucked up world.”

Lindsey had been holding her breath. She let it out with a sigh, and then placed her head on one side thoughtfully. “ _Just_ best friends? That's all?”

“Me and him as anything more than that,” Frank continued; “Is over. It has to be.”

“Does Gerard know that?”

“He has to concentrate on you. I'm just an unwanted distraction for him.”

“But he loves-”

“It's not me he _wants,_ ” Frank interrupted. He didn't want to hear it. He had to make her understand that Gerard's future involved her, not him, despite the fact that every word was slowly killing him. “It's you. It was always you. I was there for him when you couldn't be. Simple as that.”

She looked down at her bound hands, apparently unsure how to respond. Frank pressed on.

“And if he can find you again, the old you, then the two of you have to chance to-”.

“A happy ending for me isn't possible,” she stated.

Frank scowled. He didn't like her tone. It sounded as if she'd given up and Frank knew Gerard would never accept that.

“Gerard can help you.” He promised her. “We all can. If you want help, that is. Sounds like you've already given up on the life we are trying to find for you.”

“It doesn't work like that,” she snapped back. “I don't think there is any going back to the life before the conditioning. Who I am now might be a story, or a lie, but it's all I have to work with.”

“They did this to you,” Frank told her. “The Corporation.”

“The Corporation took away my fears and gave me a place in the world.” She scolded. “You have no comprehension of what it's like, to belong to something like that. All you want to do is destroy something that is beautiful. You rebels will never learn.”

He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest. “Spoken like a true Drac.”

Lindsey glared at him. “Gerard has belief in me that I can be a better person.”

“Gerard has to believe,” he countered. “He still loves you. But you need to try starting with just being a person first,” Frank retorted. “Anything is better than a life as a drone.”

She stared at him. He could see the fury in her gaze.

“I belonged.” She said, simply.

“Great,” he responded, after a beat. “So do I.”

“You're little gang of Killjoys,” she taunted quietly. “You're just four men.”

He felt his frustration turning to anger. “Well, I reckon I'm gonna be on the _winning_ team,” he snapped, with a shrug. “ _Imagine_ that.”

“Imagination isn't everything,” she replied, looking away from him. “You are too confident, Fun Ghoul.”

“Why not?” He threw back. “I'm not just talking about their lack of any ability to think for themselves, LynZ;” He titled his head onto one side. “Though it definitely helps.”

She frowned, still staring down at the ground. “Tell me then. Why else would the Draculoid army, who outnumber you and your rebel buddies so completely, be at a disadvantage?”

Frank gave her a strange look. “I don't know, but maybe because their fucking leader went and got himself ghosted by a lowly rebel?”

Lindsey's head snapped back round. “What did you say?”

Frank didn't reply, he merely smiled, but LynZ only looked even more perplexed.

“Are you saying to me that Exterminator Korse has been killed?”

“That's exactly what I'm saying, baby.”

Lindsey shook her head stupidly.

“But Korse cannot be dead,” she managed

“He's in the ground, trust me.”

“Are you sure?”

“I should think that I'm fucking sure, LynZ. I did it. Killed him with the Company's own fucking drugs. Poetic way to go, huh?”

She held up a shaky hand. “Wait. The exterminator is dead? You killed him?”

Frank was incredulous. “Is there an echo in here?” He chuckled, amused, but when she continued just to stare open mouthed at him, he relented slightly. “You didn't know?”

“When?” She breathed. “Tell me.”

“About a week ago,” Frank answered, regarding her closely now. “The same day that the town was destroyed.”

She blinked. “A week ago? But that can't-” Lindsey broke off quickly, and turned her head away.

“What do you mean?” Frank demanded, his brow furrowed in his confusion.

Lindsey felt a flicker awaken deep within her. Now, in that moment, she finally understood. This is what Gerard and Frank had both meant. _This_ was when she had the chance to decide what kind of a person she truly wanted to be. 

What path would she take? 

_Make a decision, pick a side._

Lindsey closed her eyes. She was not a drone. Neither was she Gerard's lost wife. She was her own person, her mind was her own. And she would make her own decisions

She opened her eyes and slowly met Frank's questioning gaze once more.

She had made up her mind.

She would not be a victim any longer. She was not their slave.

_She was a person._

Lindsey cleared her throat. “Frank-”

A very unexpected, and very large and loud explosion suddenly took them both by surprise. They stared at each other, shocked, exchanged confused glances. They were both flung to the floor then by the force of a second blast, right outside the barn. The sound of panicked shouting then filled the silent air. Frank scrambled to his feet and ran to the door, pulling it open and cautiously looked out. He jumped back as a raygun shot whizzed past him and hit the wall behind Lindsey. She cowered, stunned by what was happening.

Frank indicated for her to keep down, and she obeyed.

“More of your buddies,” he told her, breathlessly.

She stared back wide-eyed. “Frank, I have to-”

 _“Frank! Where the fuck are you?”_ Gerard's desperate cries were heard, and Frank, grim faced, moved to the door. He peered out, and saw a patrol of Dracs had attacked the other Killjoys, and his friends were now fighting for their lives. Again. And they needed him.

“Gotta go,” Frank told Lindsey

She tried to grab for him, only to again be blocked by the bonds on her wrists. “Frank, wait. You have to listen to me!”

“Lindsey, look around you! We’re under attack here and the others need me! I gotta go-”

“No, you _need_ to listen to me! Please, it's important. This will only take a second-”

He hesitated, wanted to stay and hear Lindsey out, but also desperate to help the others. After a second’s deliberation, he gave her an encouraging smile. “I've got to help the other guys, LynZ. I'll be right back.”

She struggled against her bonds. “Untie me, then! Come on, Frank! Let me help!”

“You're still a Drac,” he muttered, in a quandary of what to do for the best.

She gave a small cry of frustration.

“Let me prove to you I can be a person and not a drone, just like you said!”

He seemed to consider the offer. There were more shouts from outside and he swore under his breath, waving a hand to Lindsey, indicating for her to stay put.

“You'll be a lot safer here,” he told her. “Just sit tight for now. There's not many of them, this won't take long-”

There was a loud noise from right outside, and then Bert suddenly burst in, wide-eyed and staring at Frank in confusion.

“What the hell is going on?” He demanded. “Did you not hear the ray gun blasts, Frank? We're being attacked and we need you! Gerard is frantic! Get your butt out there!” He looked from Frank to Lindsey, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “What _were_ you doing?”

“Whatever your thinking,” Frank snarled, “you can fucking forget it. We were talking, that's all.”

“Whatever,” Bert threw back at him. “If you're done, I think your boyfriend and best friends could use your help! So get to it!”

Frank didn't appreciate being ordered around by Bert, but he knew he was right. He gave Lindsey an apologetic smile, and then rushed out, already screaming Gerard's name as he flew through the door.

Bert stood in the doorway for a second, watching the Killjoys progress closely. He then closed the door carefully, turned and eyed Lindsey, almost with fascination.

“So you're the woman who tamed Gerard,” he noted quietly. He smirked. “Well, you were, I mean. Not anymore.”

“Please,” Lindsey said quickly. “I have to tell you something, I need you to get to Gerard and warn him-”

“Steady on Sweet Cheeks,” Bert interjected, his tone condescending. “Gerard has more to worry about then-”

“Korse is alive!”

Bert froze. He stared at Lindsey dumbly. “What?” He finally managed to splutter out. “You're wrong. Frank killed him.”

“No,” she urged. “Frank made a mistake. I know he's still alive. And he'll be coming after you.” She glanced away. “And me. I've failed.” When she looked back up at him, her eyes were bright. “I'm glad I failed. They lied to me. Everything about them is a lie. Including his death. He's coming for Gerard, Bert. You HAVE to warn him!”

Bert, gazing at her, held up a hand to shush her. “Just calm down, baby,” he pleaded. “What are you talking-”

“I saw him!” Lindsey exclaimed. She had run out of patience. Why wasn't Bert listening to her? Why the hell wasn't he already running to Gerard? “I remember him being there, when I was reprogrammed. I could see his face, watching me.”

Bert shook his head stupidly. “Shit! Frank told us he'd killed him. The others saw his body-.”

She shrugged and gestured theatrically. “Well, Frank was wrong. They all were.” She pointed to the door desperately. “Please! We're wasting time! We have to warn the guys! Now.”

Something unreadable flashed across Bert's face. “So, you are definitely gonna tell Gerard, then?”

She blinked. “Of course.” She held up her bound wrists, indicating for him to release her. “I may not be his Lindsey but I know what I have to do, _whoever_ I am.” She gestured angrily. “Come on, Bert. Untie me. We have to get out there and help them!”

Bert began to walk slowly toward her silently. When he reached her, he leaned forward and extended his arms out to hers, as if he intended to set her free. But, just as he went to take hold of the ropes keeping her prisoner, he stopped. 

His eyes met hers. 

“You know what Lindsey?” He whispered. “I had a feeling you might say that.”

Lindsey shuddered. His eyes were so cold, and she was taken aback by how unnervingly calm he suddenly was. There was also something about the way he was staring almost into her. She felt sick. 

She knew she was in serious trouble.

She had to find a way out. She tried again.

“Bert,” she beseeched, her voice quivering. “Hurry!”

“Sorry sweetheart,” he whispered. “Can't do it.”

He slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a small capsule and a syringe. He prepared the injection quickly, and expertly, and then walked back over to her, the syringe between his finger and thumb.

He reached for her then, and she recoiled away. “Keep back! Don’t! What’s wrong with you?”

He chuckled. “Sorry hun, you’re not gonna run and tell Gerard your news, that’s just not going to happen.” Seeing her panic, he smiled. “There's nothing to be scared of, baby. This is just a little something to make sure all those silly little ideas of you being your own person are removed. We need the conditioning to take hold of you again, and this little concoction should do just that.”

Lindsey kicked out at him desperately. He responded by grabbing her by the throat, and squeezing.

She struggled against his grip, but could do nothing as he grabbed her by the arm, and then injected the clear liquid into her flesh. She whimpered at the sharp pain from the needle, and stared at him in anguish. He just looked back at her, perfectly calmly.

A few seconds passed as Lindsey continued to fight against not only his hold on her, but also the hold of the drugs now flowing through her system. She fought to hold on to the person she had slowly been becoming.

She lost the battle.

Her struggling slowly ceased and she went limp, all expression gone from her gaze as she sat, waiting patiently for the man before her, her superior, to pass on his instructions.

He released his hold on her neck, and then leaned forward, pulled up her eyelid and stared into her eye.

“Good,” he said, more to himself. “The light's have all gone out again.”

He patted her on her head like he would a pet. She still didn't resist.

“I'm sorry about this, Lindsey;” he told her. “It's nothing personal. Just following orders.”

She didn't respond.

He shrugged. With a jerk of his head, he indicated for her to walk over to him and she stood and moved to his side. She stopped right in front of him, her hands still tied, with her head bowed meekly.

“Draculoid No. 345234,” he barked to her. “Do you know me?”

“Yes Sir,” she replied, at once. “Robert McCracken.”

She was completely subservient to him. And he liked it.

_'Gerard's bitch obeying my every whim. Nice.'_

He smiled broadly. “Right baby, let’s see what you remember.” He stepped away from her then, allowing her some space. “What is your primary objective?” 

“To capture Gerard Way,” came the immediate response.

He nodded. “Yes. And your other objective, once Way was in custody, should it have become a possibility?”

She didn't even blink. “To destroy the remaining Killjoys.”

Bert was satisfied. He leaned forward again, this time to untie her hands. She stayed perfectly still as he did so. Once she was free, he patted her on her shoulder.

“Very good, Drac.” He praised her, with a smirk. “Now, I have updated orders for you.”

She stood to attention. “Yes, Sir.”

His eyes flamed. “I want you to go out there now and kill the Killjoy known as Kobra Kid. Finish the job you started.”

She nodded her understanding of his command. “As you wish, Sir.” She touched her face absently. “My mask? I won't be able to breath-”.

“You'll have long enough to do what you gotta do,” he pointed out.

She merely looked at him blankly.

He regarded her closely then, tilting his head to one side. “I wish there was another way,” he told her, with a regretful sigh. “This doesn't come from me. If it were down to me, I'd be wanting to get to know you a little better, sweetheart.”

He gave her a lingering kiss on the lips then. She didn't return the kiss, but neither did she complain. Why would she? She hadn't been told to resist. She was a Draculoid. She did as she was told.

“Nothing will get him more pumped then his little brother about to be wasted,” Bert drawled into her ear. “He won't want too, but he'll kill you, to protect precious Mikey.” As he mentioned the younger Way by name, his tone was mocking, but then, when his eyes met hers once more, he became more thoughtful. “Really am sorry about this. Seems a waste to me.” He flicked her hair out of her eyes. “But orders are orders. Say, if you do get the chance though, take the miserable little fucker Mikey out with you? The guy just fucks me off.” He grinned evilly. “And it would just break poor old Gerard's heart to lose his baby brother.”

She blinked. “Yes, sir.”

He laughed then, and gave a slight shake of his head. “You're a good girl.” He stepped aside then, leaving her pathway to the door clear. He threw her Company issued ray gun to her, which she caught expertly with one hand. “You'll be needing this,” he told her, and then looked towards the door, waiting for her to make her move.

She remained rooted to the spot, her gaze switching quickly from him, the man she apparently knew had to be obeyed, and the exit. She was hesitating; something deep within her was preventing her from carrying out her instructions.

He frowned impatiently. It seemed Gerard had dug deeper than they had believed.

“Go now,” he ordered, anger in his tone. “Carry out your orders. Do you hear?”

She didn't hesitate again. She rushed to the door and pulled it open, running straight out into the poisonous air, already searching for her prey.

Bert watched her go, his eyes flashing, with a cold, calculating smile on his lips.

_'See ya, Lindsey.'_

Everything was going exactly according to plan. 

XXX

Lindsey looked around her. There was a small party of Dracs to one side, firing blast after blast at the Killjoys. The minions had taken cover and were clearly gaining ground on the outnumbered Killjoys. She saw Poison, calling out instructions, his red hair whipping all over the place in the wind. She frowned as she took in the monstrosity of a mask he was wearing. 

Him and his originality. It would be the death of him.

But her orders in that moment did not involve Party Poison.

She looked around, saw past Frank who had blasted one Drac off of his feet and her gaze fell on Jet Star, who was trying to get to Frank and finally Kobra Kid, kneeling behind the Trans AM, clearly preparing to unleash another deadly Ray Gun round on the doomed Draculoids.

Lindsey smirked. She would see about that.

With a cry, she launched herself forward. She fired, missing Kobra by inches but forcing him away from the car slightly. Toro was screaming for Mikey but he was inconsequential, too far away to interfere with what she had to do.

With a shout of hate, she threw herself on Mikey, knocking him to the ground. Mikey cried out, yelling for her to get the hell off of him. 

She ignored him. She took out her ray gun and held it up for him to see.

He knew he was in real trouble. He couldn't force her off of him and would not be able to reach his own gun before she pulled the trigger.

“Goodbye, Killjoy,” she leered.

Suddenly, she was pushed clear of Mikey, and then picked up and thrown to the ground. She tried to scramble to her feet but her limbs would not obey. She was suddenly so tired. Where was her strength?

A weight was suddenly upon her, pressing her down. And then, a voice came:

“Lindsey, whatever is making you do this, fight it!”

Lindsey knew then. Frank had tackled her.

“Killjoy scum!” She exclaimed.

“What the fuck happened?” He hissed.

She didn't understand.

In the next second, Frank screamed out. He closed his eyes, praying for the pain to leave him the hell alone. But, it was ignoring him. And his headaches were returning with a vengeance.

_Shit. Not now._

When it came, the headache showed no mercy, consuming Frank. He could only think about the pain. He cried out, grabbing the side of his head, and squirming uncontrollably. 

Lindsey took her chance, and Frank suddenly found himself not only in sudden, unforgiving agony, but also pinned helplessly to the ground.

She was clearly intrigued by his suffering. She held a hand to his forehead and closed her eyes. And then her eyes open again. They grew wide.

“You're going to die,” she announced. She said it with no emotion, she was simply stating a fact.

He shook his head despairingly. “You don't want to do this.”

She placed a finger to his lips. “No. It's already killing you. Nothing to do with me.”

The crater of darkness inside of him was growing wider. He was terrified, and the pain was getting worse. He gasped as she ran the same finger down the side of his head. The ache in his temple was increasing with each passing second.

“You've been _marked.”_ She hissed. “You are going to get sicker. I can save you from that.”

Frank stared up at her, breathing frantically.

“Please...”

“This is a kindness.” Lindsey told him. 

She reached over, and scooped up her gun.

“Lindsey-,” Frank muttered.

“You need this.” Lindsey interjected softly, stroking his face. “I'll save you.”

Frank gritted his teeth. “No.”

_“Lindsey! Don't!”_

Lindsey stopped at the sound of the familiar voice. She frowned as she saw Gerard standing a few feet away from her, his mask in one hand, the other grasping his gun, which was currently aiming right at her chest.

“Please sugar, don't make me do this. Just let him go.”

Lindsey's gaze bore into Gerard's. Then, she reverted her eyes to Frank's. She raised the gun and placed it against his temple.

“I'm sorry,” she mouthed.

She smiled. Her finger covered the trigger. Frank closed his eyes as tightly as he could.

Gerard didn't hesitate a moment longer. He fired.

The blast entered her back and tore through her insides, hitting her heart. She opened her mouth into an “oh” shape, and was then falling backwards, away from Frank. Gerard caught her, and lowered her gently to the ground, holding her in his arms.

She lay there, blinking, clearly forcing herself to keep her eyes open. She seemed peaceful. 

Finally, her gaze met his.

Gerard grasped her to him ever more tightly. “I'm so sorry,” he moaned.

Lindsey looked up at him, and something passed through her. As if she was truly seeing her for the first time since they had been reunited. She gave him a tiny smile. He smiled back, silent tears cascading down her cheeks. He leaned closer, to let her whisper her last words into his ear.

“Gee... love...you...”

And then, with one last sigh, she laid still, her eyes still open and staring.

She didn't blink, or move again. She was so still, like a doll.

Lifeless.

Gerard shook her. She didn't respond. Gerard tried again, this time more urgently.

_“Lindsey...”_

Still nothing.

“LINDSEY!”

Gerard let out a low whimper. The sound cut through Frank like a knife.

He cleared his throat. “She's gone, love...”

Frank placed a hand on Gerard's shoulder. Gerard brushed it away. Mikey and Ray were standing to one side, Ray holding Mikey, stopping him from rushing to Gerard's side. Gerard looked past Mikey, to gaze over at Bert, who was pinning an injured Scarecrow to the sandy ground. It was the only one living; the rest had been dealt with. It could give him answers. Before Frank could stop him, Gerard was laying Lindsey down carefully on the ground, and then was up and heading over to Bert and his prisoner.

Frank knew why. Someone was about to pay. Why not the poor unfortunate Scarecrow?

“I'm sorry,” Bert said quietly.

Gerard didn't reply. He was staring down at the enemy at his feet. 

“He'll have a communication device in both of his eye lenses,” Bert told Gerard quietly, indicating the Crow. “They'll be able to see you right now. It's how Control stay in constant communication with their Scarecrows.”

Gerard nodded his understanding. He was stood over the Scarecrow, his gun raised. The man could only smirk back at him.

“Can she hear me?” Gerard snapped.

The 'Crow glared up at him stubbornly. It didn't answer.

Gerard shrugged. He fired, hitting the 'Crow on his shoulder. The Crow hissed in pain. Gerard knelt down beside his enemy, and grabbed him by his now wounded limb, and tightening his hold.

The Scarecrow writhed in agony.

“I asked you,” Gerard repeated. _“Can she hear me?”_

“Damn you,” the 'Crow snarled. “Filthy rebel.”

Party Poison smiled. And then shot the BL/I employee on his opposite shoulder.

The man howled. He tried to crawl backwards, desperate to get away from the crazed Killjoy.

Party raised his gun again, this time aiming at the man's groin.

“Yes!” He cried out, no longer able to handle the searing pain. “She can hear you.”

“Thank you,” Poison said, politely. “And see me?”

The Crow nodded, though clenched teeth.

“Good,” Party whispered.

He leaned closer, so he was positioned over the captured man, staring into his eyes. Gerard was very aware he was in fact addressing the Co-ordinator.

“I want you to listen to me, you fucking cowardly bitch. You want me? Then you come and get me. I don't want you to go through people I love any more, or to have you send any other lackeys. Why don't you come and get me? If it's me you want, I'm right here. Bring it on.”

And then, without any hesitation and with a frightening calm, Party Poison pointed his ray gun at the Crow's right eye. The man had only a second to gasp in horror, before Poison fired. The blast ripped through the man's eye and tore straight into his brain. He was dead in an instant.

Poison showed no mercy, or respect for the life he had just taken. Instead, he raised the gun once more, and blasted the man's left eye away as well.

“Can't see me now,” Poison whispered.

XXX

In the city, a long way away from the Zone, the woman was watching the now blank screen, her eyes narrowed in hatred. The arrogant rebel. She wanted him dealt with. 

The woman addressed one of the masked men sat down in front of her.

“Has Korse left the city?” The Co-ordinator barked. 

“Yes, ma'am.” The servant replied. “He is heading towards Zone Two as we speak.”

She paused, her face hard. “Tell him to hurry.”

XXX

Gerard was standing very still, panting, staring down at the dead, and bloodied eyes staring back at him. Gerard wanted to close those eyes once and for all, so he began to kick the Crow in the face hard. And he kept kicking. He cried out in his fury and he kicked the dead drone over, and over again.

He just wanted it gone. He didn't want to look into that empty, red abyss any more.

Bert didn't try to stop Gerard; he just stood back and watched him as he proceeded to ferociously attack the body lying at his feet.

“Gerard!” Frank was suddenly beside him, pulling him away from the dead Drac he was still viciously kicking. Try as he might, he couldn't force Gerard away. He was like a man possessed, just desperate to cause as much pain as possible to the figure at his feet. Frank understood, of course he did, this was about Gerard releasing all of his grief, guilt, anger and despair and if that meant kicking the shit out of some unfortunate Scare Crow, then so be it. 

Only, Gerard was starting to breath less easily now, and he was stumbling. He was still weak from his own ordeal, and this frenzied attack was going to cause him more damage.

“Gee,” Frank tried again. “You have to stop.”

Gerard didn't even pause.

“Gerard!” Frank yelled, grabbing his lover by the arm and pulling him away.

Gerard let out a furious cry of pure, guttural agony and hit out at the person he believed was trying to manhandle him. His wayward punch caught Frank square in the face and Frank fell to one knee from the force of the blow. Gerard was on him at once, breathing hard, snarling insults. 

There were cries from afar now. Someone yelling at him to stop. Gerard ignored them. 

He landed another punch, and then a third, and then balled his hand into a tight fist, ready to pummel the bastard who had dared get in his way...

“Gee,” Frank whimpered. “Please...”

Gerard stopped, gasping for breath. His eyes widened as the red mist that had descended slowly cleared and he saw, for the first time, whom he had just been about to beat to death. 

“Frankie,” he moaned. “Oh God, Frankie-”

And he let out a wail of anguish and fell to his knees, his hands covering his face. Frank got painfully to his feet; ignoring the agony he was in. He wrapped his arms around his lover and held him tight, kissing his head, and giving Gerard all the comfort he could. Gerard clung to Frank, his head buried into the other man's chest as he continued to sob uncontrollably.

Frank just held him as Gerard finally let it all out, the pain of losing Lindsey, plus all the fear, despair and agony he had kept pent up since the moment Korse had walked into that store room.

After weeks of forcing himself to be strong, Gerard finally crumbled, and he did it in the arms of the one he loved the most.

Frank looked over his lover's head, to see how the others were dealing with the loss, lost in their own despair. Mikey was on his knees beside Lindsey's body, weeping softly. Ray was stood behind him, one hand covering his face, the other clamped on Mikey's shoulder. 

Just for a second, as he looked around, trying to make sense of what had happened, Frank's eyes met Bert's. As he watched him, Bert gave Frank a sneaky wink. Frank stared back, wide eyed, not quite believing what he had seen Bert do. It happened so quickly, Frank wondered if he had imagined it.

But no, it was real. Bert had winked at Frank. While they had all been grieving, Bert had been amused. 

Amused, and had decided to share his amusement with Frank.

Frank forced himself to look away. Shaking uncontrollably as he tried to offer comfort to the sobbing man in his arms, his entire being threatening to explode with grief, hate and rage. 

And what had Lindsey meant? Why had she called him a dead man?

Frank put that thought to one side. He couldn’t deal with that at that moment.

Because Frank _knew._ In that instant, there was no longer any smidgens of doubt.

It was all down to Bert. He had betrayed them. He had fucked with his head, turned Lindsey against then and had betrayed Gerard.

Frank didn't know why. Or how.

He didn't really care. Because Frank knew only one thing for definite: 

Bert was going to be the dead man.

TBC


	17. Chapter 17

Gerard finally grew still, though he continued to grip on to Frank as if his life depended on it.

He couldn't cry any more. Perhaps he had no tears left?

Frank gritted his teeth, refusing to waste any more time thinking about Bert. It was Gerard that mattered in that moment, not the treacherous bastard who Frank was now certain was the reason Gerard was in the state he was.

Bert was definitely to blame for Lindsey's death. Of that, Frank was convinced. The trick would be to convince the others. One way or another, they had to get Bert out of their lives.

He had laughed at them for long enough.

Frank softly stroked Gerard's hair as the other man whimpered softly. “Baby,” he muttered, “I'm sorry but we gotta move-”.

Gerard responded by holding Frank even more tightly.

Frank sighed.

“They know where we are, babe.” Frank continued. “It's not safe to stay here.”

Mikey and Ray were suddenly beside them.

“Let's bury her, Gee.” The younger Way said quietly. “Give her the respect she deserves.”

“We'll do it for you,” Ray continued, placing a soothing hand on Gerard's back. “She needs to be put to rest, Gerard-”

“No,” Gerard snapped loudly, finally pulling clear of Frank, and wiping at his tear stained face with the back of his hand. “No. There's not gonna be a burial.”

Frank and Ray exchanged glances. With a grimace, Mikey stepped closer to his brother. 

“Gee, I know this hurts like hell-”

“LynZ never wanted to be buried, Mikey;” Gerard replied, glancing at the remains of the woman he loved, and then quickly looked away again. “She always told me that if she... she...” He broke off, stumbling over his words, before composing himself, and then continuing. “If she went before me, she wanted me to make sure I sent her off with a bang.”

Frank furrowed his brow. “What do you think she meant?”

Gerard shook his head. “She never told me. But I know I'm not putting her in the ground where those bastards will probably come along, dig her up again and do fuck knows what to her.” He fixed Frank with a steely glare. “We're gonna do this right, do her proud, and the whole fucked up world is gonna fucking know about it.”

Ray was rubbing at his neck thoughtfully. “The place she was... where we...” He trailed off under Gerard's intense stare, unsure how to word his sentence. “Well, there's the barn...”

Gerard gestured his impatience. “Ray, say what you want to say.”

“We could put her in the barn and set a big fucking fire.” Ray reeled off, after a beat.

Gerard began to respond to this suggestion incredulously, but then he stopped to think about it, and closed his eyes. “Like Anakin Skywalker,” he breathed. “That's pretty cool, actually.”

Bert coughed. He was sat up on the Trans Am, smoking a cigarette. He flicked some ash away and, to Frank's ever growing anger, he seemed fixated on Gerard. “It would take too long to start the fire. It's not like we could use the gas from the car, we've hardly got enough to get anywhere as it is.”

The red head glared. “She'd have liked the fire idea.”

Bert shrugged. “Frank has the explosives he took from Korse. Put LynZ in the barn, set the timer on one of those beauties, toss it in, run like hell, and then – BOOM!” He waved his hands theatrically. “LynZ gets the fucking mother of all send offs!”

Frank glowered at Bert. “I don't want you touching-”

“Whatever!” Bert exclaimed. “You do it then, you set the timer.” He paused, the ghost of a smirk on his lips. “If you know how.”

Frank clenched his fists together. He wanted to tear the smug bastard to bits but he knew he couldn't. Not yet. Not with Gerard still needing Frank to be strong. So, he forced his anger aside, ready to return to it later. With relish.

He felt in his pockets, and pulled out one of the small balls. “This will leave me with only two left,” he muttered. “They are the best weapon we have against the Dracs, who randomly keep managing to track us down. Don't know how;” he shot Bert a sideways glance but, to Frank's frustration, Bert was no longer looking at him. Grinding his teeth, Frank carried on. “We never know when we might need them.”

Gerard sighed. “Frank, I want this done. And I want LynZ to have the ending she deserved. Please?”

Frank looked down. He couldn't refuse Gerard this. Not when it meant so much to him. So, he looked down at the small, deadly device in the palm of his hand, and offered it to Bert, without meeting the gaze of the other man. Bert smiled at Frank, then indicated for the others to pick LynZ up. Mikey and Gerard did so, solemnly carrying her to the barn, and playing her carefully inside. Frank and Ray stood back, allowing the brothers to have a moment together.

Inside, just out of sight, Mikey put his arm around Gerard's shoulders.

“I'm so sorry, brother.” He told him. “I don't know what else to say.”

Gerard gave Mikey a thankful half smile. “At least I got some extra time I didn't think was possible. It's more than Ray or Frank will ever have.” He glanced at his younger brother, gnawing on his lower lip. “We've all lost so much.”

Mikey pulled Gerard closer to him. “We've still got each other. The four of us.”

Gerard nodded. “Five, with Bert.”

Mikey didn't respond to that. He had agreed to give the other man a chance, and Bert had obviously saved his life, as well as Gerard's. But there was still something Mikey couldn't put his finger on, something that made him uneasy. And plus, for so long, it had just been the four of them. Gerard, Mikey. Frank and Ray. They were the Killjoys. He didn't understand why Gerard had felt the need for Bert to join them, and he still didn't like it.

But, Bert was definitely trying, that couldn't be denied; and he was on the same side as them. Not to mention, Gerard clearly trusted him.

And Gerard's judgement had always been good enough for Mikey.

Gerard cleared his throat. “Mikes, could you leave me with LynZ? Just for a moment? I know I don't have a lot of time, but I'd like to be alone with her. Please?”

Mikey gave Gerard a supportive hug. “Course buddy. I'll be right outside.”

And then, Mikey left Gerard, walking quickly out of the open door, trying to control his own emotions. He exchanged concerned looks with Ray and Frank as they stood together, waiting for their leader to rejoin them. Gerard hadn't deserved any of this. He'd do anything to relieve some of his brother's suffering. He wished BL/I would target him instead. Anything to help Gerard.

It only took a few moments for Gerard to reappear. He had red eyes and wouldn't meet any of their gazes. Instead, he addressed Bert.

“Okay, Bert. I'm ready.”

Bert inclined his head in acknowledgement, and then moved past the others, heading inside the barn. He smiled knowingly down at LynZ, nudging her body further into the barn with his foot. He then placed the bomb beside her, whistling quietly.

“Three minutes,” he murmured. “Thanks for the help, Lindsey.”

When everything was prepared, he spun on his heel, and strolled back to the door. As he walked through it, a look of grief and pain was etched once more upon his face.

“Three minutes,” he told the Killjoys. “Gonna be a big bang. Better back up.”

They did so, all holding their breaths as the timer counted down.

Bert counted the last ten seconds, his eyes locked on to his watch.

“3 – 2 – 1...”

The force of the blast that followed sent all the Killjoys flying to the floor. They picked themselves up, each trying to clear the ringing from their ears, all turning to see that the tiny exploder had left nothing of the barn that had once been LynZ's prison. Flames had engulfed the small wooden building, and black, ominous smoke was billowing up to the sky.

Gerard nodded. “There you go, baby,” he whispered. “Have a good journey.”

Bert whistled in appreciation. “Those bombs of Korse's are pretty impressive.”

Gerard grimaced at the mention of the hated name. He glanced away.

Frank snapped his head round, eyeing the other man with disdain. “You think maybe you might try not mentioning that bastard right now, Bert?” 

Bert shrugged. “Whatever.” He pointed to the Trans AM. “We have to leave now. The size of that explosion, it would have been heard from miles away. Dracs will be swarming here any minute.”

Frank was glowering. “I'm sure we could give Gee a sec-”

Gerard cut across him. “It's okay, Frankie. Bert is right, we need to get moving.”

At the red head's words, Ray and Mikey both turned in conjuction, and began to make their way together back to the Trans AM. They were more than ready to leave this place behind and Frank understood why. It stank of death. He felt his heart sink when he saw that Mikey's shoulders were shaking gently as he walked. He felt somewhat relieved to see Ray reach out and stroke Mikey's hair, comforting him.

_'Ray was always there for Mikey.'_

That's the way it should be.

Frank turned back to see Gerard, to offer him the same care and concern, but someone else had managed to get their first. Bert was holding Gerard from behind, his hands on _Frank's_ boyfriend's hips, and Gerard was leaning back against Bert, his eyes closed. And Bert was whispering in _Frank's_ boyfriend's ear.

 _Frank's_ boyfriend. _His._ The man Bert had once beaten to a pulp. The man he had tried to kill. And the man the bastard was now happily betraying to BL/I. 

There were no doubts now. There were no more hesitations. He wanted Bert dead.

Frank saw red. And he couldn't hold back any longer.

_“You sonofabitch! Get the fuck away from him!”_

Gerard and Bert both looked up, startled. 

“Frank!” Gerard snapped, “What the fuck is wrong-”.

Frank took no notice. With a cry of anguished fury, the small man, incensed with rage, threw himself at Bert. He pinned the man to the ground beneath him, and uncaring that Ray, Mikey and Gerard were screaming at him to stop, he proceeded to batter the man beneath him. Bert yelled for all he was worth, and struggled, desperately trying to throw Frank off, but the furious man clung on.

“You fucking traitor! You're _dead!_ ”

In that moment, Frank had disappeared, consumed by his hate. He was like a wild animal, all he wanted to do was kill the bastard that he completely believed had caused the man he loved so much pain.

He would show no mercy. Bert hadn't given any to LynZ after all.

Frank knew he wasn't thinking clearly. He didn't care. And, in that second, he knew, without any doubt, that he could actually kill Bert there and then.

Bert had actually stilled beneath him. He was no longer attempting to fight. He was just lying there, taking it.

Frank felt a rush of triumph. He'd won.

_'End it now.'_

His hands tightened around the other man's throat. 

Gerard had seen enough. With Ray and Mikey's help, he was grabbing at Frank, manhandling him away from the beaten and bloodied Bert, and then Bert was moaning weakly and holding his throat, gasping in pain, and whimpering pathetically. Then, he was spluttering his protestations to Gerard and glaring accusingly at Frank. The brunette was still yelling, still fighting tooth and claw against his fellow Killjoys, desperate to get free, and have another shot at Bert. He wanted to finish the job.

“You bastard! You lying, sick bastard! How could you!?”

“For fuck's sake, Frank!” Mikey exclaimed. “Calm down will you?”

“Don't you fucking tell me to calm down, Kobra...” There was no getting through to Frank. He was lost in his fury.

“What is his fucking problem?” Bert demanded. He took a step toward Gerard, and snapped at him; “Is he fucking insane?”

That was enough to send Frank off again. “Don't you fucking dare talk to him, you fucking piece of shit!” He shouted, trying to wrestle his way free from Ray, but, despite how incensed the youngest Killjoy was, Ray was still a lot stronger, and he held him firmly. So, Frank had to settle on screaming his outrage. “Don't you go _near_ him! You hear me?”

“Is this how jealous you are, Frank?” Bert taunted. “I'm not allowed to even be near Gerard now? How pathetic _are_ you?”

“Bert, that's enough.” Gerard was beside Frank, his arm around him, trying to calm him. “That's not helping.”

“He tried to fucking _kill_ me, Gerard!”

Gerard looked up at Bert then with wide, questioning eyes. “I saw that, Bert. But why?”

Frank cut in. “Because he's a fucking spy!” 

Mikey froze at that. He looked at Ray, who was looking just as worried. “What?”

“BULLSHIT!” Bert shouted. “He's out of his mind!”

“Bert,” Gerard said, speaking softly but with a dangerous side to his tone now. “I said shut up.” He looked again at Frank. “What is this all about, Frank? Calm down, and talk to me.”

Frank swallowed hard. Here was his chance. Gerard was listening.

“He's betraying us, Gee.” Frank said. “He's been telling Dracs how to find us, giving the company information the whole time. He's working for them. And;” He paused, hesitating for a second. “He set Lindsey after Mikey, I'm sure of it. He got her killed.”

There was complete silence, apart from Bert and Frank's heavy breathing. Bert was shaking his head.

Ray spoke up first. “Frank, have you got anything to back this up?”

Before Frank could reply, Bert piped up again.

“He hasn't got a fucking thing!” He outstretched a hand towards Gerard, beseeching him. Mikey moved, standing between Bert and Gerard.

Bert stared. “He's insane with jealousy, Mikey! It's not true.”

Mikey placed his hands on his hips. “Just give him a minute, Bert. We need to sort this out.”

Bert scoffed. “We need to get Frank Iero some fucking help, that’s what we need to do!”

Gerard was looking Bert up and down carefully. And then, he averted his gaze and walked slowly over to Frank, and took his boyfriend's hand.

“Come with me,” he told him.

Bert stepped forward. “Gerard,” there was a slight panic in his voice for the first time. “You have to believe me-”.

Gerard turned then and glanced at Bert. “I have to find out the truth, Bert. I'll be back in a second.”

With that, he took Frank to one side, until they were out of ear shot. He stared into Frank's eyes, and placed his hand on the other man's cheek.

“You know how fucking serious this is, Frankie.”

It wasn't a question.

Frank nodded. “Yeah.” His voice was steady.

Gerard frowned. “Are you sure about this? No doubts whatsoever?”

Frank balled his hands into fists.

“You believe him, don't you? Yes, I'm fucking sure!”

Gerard scowled, looking quickly over at the others. They hadn't heard.

“We're talking about Bert McCracken betraying us, Frank. We're talking about Mikey being tortured because of him. We're talking about Lindsey being dead because of him. I just want to know that you are fucking sure about this.”

Frank's anger receded at that. “Yes,” he said, more calmly. “I'm sure.”

Gerard nodded. “Okay. You need to be, because Frank, for your sake, you can't get this wrong. Do you understand me? _Don't be wrong about this._ ”

There was a slight warning to his tone. It made Frank nervous. He shoved it to one side. He knew he was right.

“What happens now?” He asked.

A coldness spread over Gerard's face. “I'll deal with it,” he answered.

He turned and hurried back to the others, Frank rushing to keep alongside him. Gerard then walked purposely up to Bert, who was now leaning against his motor bike, in deep conversation with Mikey and Ray. Gerard indicated for Mikey and Ray to move back, and once they had done so, Gerard turned to Bert.

“I want you to leave, Bert.”

Bert smirked. He evidently thought this was a joke. “Okay, so, Frank put you up to that, did he?”

Gerard blinked. “This isn't funny, Bert. I can't deal with the animosity for another second, and I don't know if I can trust you now. So, I'm sorry, but I need you gone.”

The other man shook his head wordlessly, still evidently not taking this seriously. He couldn't comprehend that Gerard would turn against him. “Frankie doesn't have a clue what he's talking about, Gee. He's wrong about me. Come on, you know he's fucking jealous. Whatever his reason is, it's a load of shit! You think I'd hurt Lindsey? Or any of you? You're accusing me of actually giving them information after what they did to my boys?” He took a step towards Gerard. “How the fuck can you even think that?”

Gerard crossed his arms over his chest. “There's nothing to discuss. Just take your bike and go, Bert.”

“And what happens if you need me? The drugs?”

“You said yourself, the dose is over. We waned me off of it for that reason. I feel fine.” He paused. “I'm fine.”

Bert looked over at Frank furiously then, who was staring back. There was a flaming fury in his eyes. Bert went to take a step forward, but then decided against it. Frank suddenly felt very uneasy. If Bert wanted to, he could tell Gerard about the pills Frank had been taking, dropping him right in it, and getting himself out of suspicion and Frank into it.

Frank stood there, cringing, waiting for the words he was sure were coming. Instead, Bert turned back towards Gerard, and when he did so, his whole body language had altered. There was unexpectedly an air of surrender about him now, much to Frank's amazement. 

Was Bert actually giving up? Frank knew he was working for BL/I, was absolutely sure of that fact. Surely he wouldn't just give in without a fight?

Bert, meanwhile, was staring at Gerard. “You really mean this?”

Gerard steadied himself, and then spoke again. “I think it's best if you go.”

“Now?”

“Now.”

Bert shook his head, his hands on his hips.

“Gerard, you do realise how insane this sounds? We're friends.”

“I know,” came the softly spoken reply.

“So,” Bert beseeched; “Why the _fuck_ can't you give me the benefit of the doubt?”

Frank scoffed.

Gerard ignored him. He addressed Bert again.

“I am, Bert. That doubt is the reason I'm letting you leave here alive.” 

Bert opened his mouth as if he was going to argue further, saw the resolve in Gerard's expression, and shut it again. After a beat, and an unreadable glance to Frank, Bert raised his hands in surrender.

“Okay. You win. I'll go. But I'm gonna take one of the communicators with me, if that’s okay with you. I don't wanna be cut off deep in a Zone, and if you need me, you can just call me.” 

Frank raised an eyebrow.

Gerard, however, nodded. “Sure.”

Bert let out a heavy sigh, and then walked to Ray and Mikey, shaking their hands in turn. Mikey looking down as he took Bert's hand. The ex-singer then offered his hand to Frank, who merely glared at him.

Bert shrugged. He swung his leg over his motor bike and climbed on top.

“You guys be careful,” he told them, and with one last look to Gerard, he placed his helmet on his head and then the bike roared into life. With a wisp of dust behind him, Bert took off.

The four Killjoys all stared after him in silence. Gerard moved first, nudging to the others that it was time to be on their way. Frank stepped closer to Gerard, touching his hand gently.

“Thanks for trusting me, Gee.”

Gerard didn't look at him, or signify that he'd heard Frank speak at all. He continued to walk on ahead, not putting weight on his bad ankle once more. Frank frowned. Gerard was hurting again, in more ways than one.

“We need to get out of here,” Gerard called to his fellow Killjoys. “Where shall we make for?” He turned to them, his gaze hovering on each one of them in turn. “We need to go some place safe, somewhere only we know, where nobody's gonna find us.” He glanced down. “I could do with a break. Just a quick one.”

Ray nodded. “I know that there is a gas station to the east, about 10 miles away. It's out of our way but its the nearest safe house. I've heard other rebels mentioning it during broadcasts. We'll be able to rest there, maybe stock up on some supplies, if there are some handy. We won't be able to stop again before we reach the border for Zone Three.” 

He paused, waiting for Gerard to respond.

Gerard was staring into space.

Frank blinked. “Gee, you okay with that?”

Gerard still didn't move.

“Gerard!” Frank snapped.

Gerard turned quickly. “Yeah,” he agreed, though he still seemed distracted. “Sounds good.” He held out the key to the car. “Ray, can you drive again for me? I'm beat and I could do with some sleep.”

Ray exchanged a very quick glance with Frank, and then rushed to fulfil Gerard's request. “Sure, Gee.” He gave Mikey a look that clearly said 'look after him,' and seemed satisfied when Mikey instantly stepped closer to his brother.

Without another word, and now with Mikey right behind him, Gerard continued his journey to the car. Ray frowned, and then hurried after the brothers.

Frank stayed still for a moment longer, his feeling of relief quickly leaving him. 

He tried to push his doubts to the back of his mind. Gerard would be fine. After everything he had been though, of course he was going to be slightly off kilter. Frank had got what he wanted; Bert's threat had finally been removed. Frank would be where he always was, right there for Gerard, and they could all finally start to move on in a forward direction.

And he kept on telling himself that as he followed behind the others.

XXX

The car journey was uncomfortable. They had mainly remained silent, especially as Gerard slept for the majority of the trip. Ray and Frank had constantly exchanged worried glances. Frank wished he could have guessed what the other man had been thinking. Did Ray agree that he had done the right thing? Surely he wasn't the only one who had read into Bert's true nature? He could count on Ray being on his side, right? And Mikey. The younger brother had never liked Bert, Frank knew that, but even he had had problems making eye contact with Frank. Frank didn't understand why. Okay, perhaps he shouldn't have lost his temper so spectacturarily but he'd been provoked. And he had only wanted to Gerard, to protect them all. Surely they had got that?

By the time that they had arrived at their destination, it had turned dark. Their troubled moods were not helped by the sight of where they had found themselves, in was a miserable and desolate place that had once been a gas station. As they pulled up beside what had been a pump in a previous existance, Gerard had awoken. He had promptly climbed out of the car without a word, and then with a jerk of his head toward Frank, he had set off towards the store. Frank had glanced at Ray and Mikey, and they had shrugged and gone off together, likely to start a fire themselves so they could refresh, maybe eat something. So, Frank had found himself following Gerard obediantly.

And that as where he now found himself, sat opposite his boyfriend in the empty store, waiting for the other man to speak. 

Gerard wriggled, as if to get comfortable, but the action caused him to olicit a moan. Frank looked up quickly. 

“You okay?” He asked.

“Yeah,” Gerard replied. “I guess I've overexerted myself today. Everything hurts.”

Frank nodded. “It's been a difficult day.”

Gerard raised an eyebrow. “Understatement.”

Frank kept quiet. He didn't know what to say.

Gerard cleared his throat. “What made you suspicious of Bert?” He asked the brunette. “I need to know, Frank. I allowed him in, let him run with us. How long did you have doubts for?”

It seemed like an accusation to Frank and he didn't like it. “He behaved differently with me than he did with you,” Frank replied coldly. 

Gerard tilted his head to once side. “You should have said something.”

“Probably,” Frank agreed. “But I didn't think you'd listen, just mistake my worries for jealousy. I knew I didn't trust him from the get go. In fact, I never liked him, even back in the day.”

Gerard sighed. “I actually guessed that.” He jerked his head. “Back then, I mean.”

Frank shrugged. “He's an ass hole.”

Gerard flinched at that, and then gasped in pain again, grabbing for his healing ribs. He let out a loud moan of frustration then, and obviously feeling weak, he tried to turn away from Frank, even though the movement caused him even more discomfort. Frank was up and moving to Gerard at once, sitting down beside him, and leaning closer to him. “You don't have to pretend with me, Gee. I know you're hurtin'. Just let it go.” He then reached out and gently caressed Gerard's face. 

They stared at each other for a moment. And then, taking Frank by some surprise, Gerard leaned forward and kissed Frank on the lips. 

He seemed to realise what he was doing and stopped, sitting back, and looking down at his hands. Frank reached out and took Gerard's trembling hand and squeezed it.

“It's okay,” he urged. “Trust me.”

Gerard hesitated for one more second, and then leaned forward again, kissing Frank once more. He was hesitant and nervous, and the kiss was awkward, but chaste at the same time. Frank continued to Gerard's face, brushing his cheek, caressing him. As he felt Gerard relaxing into the kiss and the embrace, he wondered how much further he could take this. He heard Gerard sigh contently and that made up his mind. Frank tightened his hold, and pulled Gerard closer to him. But, at the moment he gripped Gerard firmly, he felt the other man instantly recoil away from him. Frank paused, opening his eyes, and he looked at Gerard. The red head still had his eyes closed, but there was the unmistakable look of fear written across his face.

He was still scared to be touched. He always would be.

Frank couldn't help it, he had to pull away. He let out a sigh, and then got carefully to his feet.

Gerard snapped open his eyes and stared up at him, clearly confused. “Frankie, where are you going?”

“I need some air, Gee. I'll only be a minute.”

Gerard blinked. “Did I do something wrong?”

Frank shook his head quickly. “Course not. I just feel a bit light headed. I'll be right back.”

Gerard stood, and reached out for Frank as the other man began to walk away.

“I'm sorry, Frank.”

Frank had his eyes locked on the ground. “Don't apologise, Gee. This isn't about you. Trust me.”

“I don't want you to leave. Everybody leaves. Please stay, Frank.”

Finally, Frank's guilt ridden gaze met that of the defeated man. 

“I'm sorry, Gee,” Frank said softly. “I can't bear hurting you but I can't deal with this. Not any more. You're scared of me, and it's killing me.”

Gerard shook his head. “I'm not frightened of you, Frank. I need you.” He paused. “I love you.”

Frank's heart broke. For the first time since the attack, _He'd said it._

“Stay with me,” Gerard added, in a tiny voice. “Please. I want you to. I want you to touch me.”

Frank placed his hand on the door knob. “I wish I could, Gerard, but I can't.”

And with that, Frank pulled open the door, and walked out, closing it carefully behind him.

Gerard stared after him, shaking, still trying to figure out where he had gone wrong. He hung his head in shame, unable to prevent the tears as they began to fall.

XXX

Frank took in two large gulps of air as he trudged up and down, already in two minds as to whether he should return to the gas station and Gerard, or go to the camp and ask one of the others to watch over Gerard for a while. It hurt Frank so badly, that he couldn't touch Gerard, be with him and give him the love and adoration he so dearly needed, and deserved. Gerard would continue to keep Frank at arm's length while he worked everything out, and he wasn't going to get over any of it any time soon. Frank sighed. He would wait forever if that’s how long Gerard needed, but this wasn't about him getting to be intimate with his boyfriend again. This was about so much more, this was about healing a sick man. And he knew he could do it, if Gerard just gave him the chance. 

Frank turned towards the camp, and spotted Mikey standing close by, watching him. Frank nodded to the younger Way, and Mikey waved in response. With a quick glance over his shoulder, for Ray, Frank assumed, Mikey was suddenly hurrying over towards his fellow Killjoys.

Frank gave the other man a small smile as he approached. 

Mikey wrapped his arms around himself as he regarded the younger man closely.

“What's up, Frank? I thought you were gonna stay with Gerard? Keep an eye on him?”

Mikey broke off when he saw Frank's uncomfortable reaction to his words. His expression hardened then, and he lowered his voice. “How is Gerard doing?”

Frank looked over at the gas station, sighed, and then returned his gaze to Mikey.

“He's doing okay, considering. Losing Lindsey has cut him to his core, and he was already suffering enough before. You know how much he loved her, Mikes. To get her back, then lose her like that-”

“And all of this shit with Bert,” Mikey interjected. “He trusted him, Frank. It took a lot for Gerard to let him in again after what happened. And now, Bert's gone too.”

Frank was grimacing. “It's for the best, Mikey.”

The other man waved his hand wearily. “I know, Frank. But it was always going to affect Gerard.” He perched down beside Frank then, staring straight ahead. “Gerard must feel pretty helpless right now. He's been targeted, used, abused and the people he loves the most hurt, tortured and even killed just to get to him. He needs to believe in himself again, somehow. He needs to get some control of his own life back-”.

“Mikey! What are you doing?” Ray had walked up suddenly, making them both jump in surprise. “Hey, Frankie. Everything alright?”

Frank nodded. “Yeah, I was just getting some air.”

Ray eyed him. He reached out, and softly played with Mikey's blond locks. Frank noted the touch, and Mikey's contented reactions with interest. 

“There's nothing here,” Ray stated, looking down at the sandy ground. “I thought there would be something we could use, but either the Dracs have emptied it, or another rebel group have been here recently.”

“So?” Frank said. “What are you saying?”

Ray frowned. “What do you think?” He was irritated, tired. “We need more supplies, Frank. Desperately. We're almost out and there's very little here we can take. This place was never been used as a base, I'd guess that it hasn't been used as anything for a long time. There's not even enough fuel here to get us to the base.” He gestured away from them. “We've already lost so much time, we have to keep moving or we might not meet up with the Doc at all. You know he can't stay in the same place for too long.”

“Get to the point, Ray;” Frank urged.

Ray reddened. “Sorry. Well, there's supposedly a small rebel base about 5 miles north. There were rumours that a small party of rebels used it as a store before they were ghosted. It's never been found, though. I should go and have a look, see if anythings there and if it is, try and get some food, water and medical supplies. See what’s there, basically.” 

Frank nodded in agreement. “Sounds okay. Keep in contact though. Let us know if you get into an problems. We're well into Drac territory anyway.”

“I'll take the Trans,” Ray added, pointing to the car. He fished around in his pockets, pulled out the key, threw it in the air and caught it. “I'll be quicker then.” 

Mikey spoke up then, after glancing in the direction of the gas station for a second, apparently in consideration. “I'll go with you, Ray. You shouldn't go alone.” 

Ray shrugged. “Fine.” But the sideways glance he shot to Mikey didn't go unnoticed by Frank.

Again, Frank found himself wondering. 

_What was going on?_

After a brief pause, he nodded again. “Okay,” Frank said, with a jerk of his head. “I'd better get back to Gerard.” He gave them a small smile. “Be careful, yeah?”

“Always,” Ray replied, and gave Frank a small pat on the back.

“If Gerard needs me;” Mikey began, then stopped. This was the problem. Gerard did need them and none of them had a clue what to do for him. Frank, however, gave Mikey an understanding smile. “I'll look after him, Mikes. You know that.”

Mikey did know that.

He nodded, and then looked questionably to Ray, who gestured for them to head off. Taking their leave of Frank then, the two of them walked away quickly, making for the Trans AM. Mikey leaned into Ray as he walked, placing his head against the other man, and Ray responded by putting his arm around the younger man and pulling him closer. Frank watched them go, his curiosity almost killing him. 

Ray and Mikey? Together? Was it possible? Of course it was possible. Ray and Mikey had always loved each other, although only as friends back in the band days. What if that friendship had turned into something more? Just as it had done for Gerard and him?

Did Gerard know?

Frank grimaced as his thoughts inevitably returned to Gerard. Frank turned and stared at the gas station, twirling his cigarette in his fingers. He thought again about what Mikey had told him, and a plan began to form in his mind.

_“... He needs to believe in himself again, somehow. He needs to get some control of his own life back...”_

Frank's face was set as he began the short walk back to the small building. His mind was made up. He knew what he was going to do. 

XXX

Gerard glanced up as Frank walked back into the room and closed the door firmly behind him. The red head let out a weary sigh and then reverted his eyes back to the ray gun he was cleaning.

"What do you want, Frank?” Gerard sounded tired, beaten. It was clear the last thing he wanted was yet another fight. “I was just gonna get some sleep. I wanted some time to myself, you know?”

“Mikey and Ray have gone to a nearby base, as there's nothing here worth taking.” The brunette replied. “To pick up some supplies, hopefully.” Frank leaned back against the door. “They shouldn't be too long.”

Gerard nodded his understanding, but he didn't look up.

Frank swallowed hard. He had to put all his own fears and troubles to one side now. Only Gerard mattered. Whatever Lindsey's words had meant, he could do nothing about them right then. But Gerard, maybe he could do something to fix him. His heart ached now at the sight of his clearly anguished boyfriend. Losing Lindsey was just another torment on top of the many the damaged man was already trying to deal with. Frank's guilt grew when he saw Gerard was refusing to catch his eyes again. He knew he was part of the cause of the man's most recent hurt. Frank's discomfort grew as Gerard then did meet his gaze momentarily, and he saw the other man's eyes were red and sore.

Frank could have kicked himself. He'd actually made Gerard cry. What kind of an ass was he? Hadn't he suffered enough?

"Look, Gee. I don't want to fight with you any more either.” Frank's voice was grave as he stepped closer. “Actually, I think I might have thought of a way to at least try to make some of this better.”

Gerard frowned. Tossing his ray gun to one side, he looked up slowly, and stared at Frank.

"What are you talking about?” Gerard demanded, with some annoyance. “There's nothing that’s gonna make any of this _better,_ Frank, except for a time machine, which I'm guessing you don't have. So, Lindsey is still dead, the Doc is still crippled, Mikey was still tortured, you still think Bert is betraying me to my enemies, and, oh yeah, I was still raped. That's the way it is and it's not changing. Trust me."

Frank moved ever closer to him, perching down on the makeshift bed beside Gerard, his hands in his lap.

"I know there isn't a quick fix for any of that, Gee. What I meant was, I think I know how to make things right again. Or at least make a start. Between us, I mean. To get past..." He gestured, uncomfortably; “To get beyond these problems we've been having lately.”

Gerard watched Frank intensely, his eyes narrowing. They were now so close that he could practically smell Frank's sweat and the dirt and dust on his skin. Frank filled his nostrils, and it made Gerard feel weak. He didn't like it. He refused to show any more weakness.

He had displayed too much of his agony already that day.

"I can't undo anything that's happened, Frankie,” he told his boyfriend grimly. “And nor can you.” He hesitated, before continuing. “Not how I feel about what happened to Lindsey, or Bert leaving, or the rape, or even the panic that sets in whenever _you_ touch me. I know you're not gonna hurt me but it makes no difference.” His voice shook. “I can't pretend I'm okay when we both know that I'm not.” 

"I'm not asking you to pretend, Gee.” He replied, and reached out to take hold of Gerard's hand. “I'm just saying that I think I've worked out how to make you trust me again.” 

“I do trust you-” Gerard began at once but Frank held up a hand, silencing him.

“Trust me to touch you, I mean.” He cut across him quickly. “I know you're scared to be intimate with me. You don't trust me because of _him,_ you can't stand the thought of being with me, or anyone and I hate that he still has that much power over you. You think you're gonna lose me, don't you? Like you lost her.”

Gerard glanced away and Frank stepped closer.

“I'm not going anywhere, Gerard.”

Gerard shook his head. “Frankie, please. I know what you are trying-”

“It's early days,” Frank interjected; “Of course I realise that, but we need you to be firing on all cylinders again if we are gonna take this fucking fight to them. I need you, Gee. We need you. So I'm gonna try to break that control he has over you. I'm gonna take the power away from that piece of shit and give it all back to you.” His eyes narrowed. “Even if it fucking kills me.”

Gerard's heartbeat accelerated as he took in Frank's passion. But he couldn't help but feel suspicious. Frank seemed too confident, so sure was he that he had it all worked out, it made Gerard nervous. 

"How?” He asked, quietly. “How are you going to do that?” His voice sounded pitiful, even to his own ears. He gazed at Frank with worried eyes. “Gonna take a lot of effort to fix this. To fix me.” He swallowed hard. “I close my eyes and I can see her in my arms. She's gone. I touch you or one of the other guys and all I feel is _him._ You might have to face facts, Frankie. I might be a lost cause, even for you.”

Frank let out a deep breath and then, reaching out with one hand, he cupped Gerard's cheek. “Close your eyes now, babe, and relax;” Frank whispered. “And feel _me._ ” After a moment's hesitation, Gerard allowed his eyelids to flutter closed as Frank gently caressed him, and moved his lips to within a whisker of Gerard's own. Gerard sighed loudly, feeling so weak that he could have actually slipped off of the bed and fallen to his knees. Instead of falling however, he pressed into Frank's touch, aching for his comfort. 

“That's it. I want you to feel me, Gerard. Only me. You're safe, and you're loved. And you are in control.” Frank paused then, watching Gerard closely as his boyfriend shivered at his touch. When Frank did speak again, his words were soft, but firm. "Gee, I want you to take me."

Gerard froze. He blinked a few times and pulled away slightly, squinting his eyes and trying to reason whether he had heard those softly spoken word's correctly.

“What-” he managed but Frank interrupted him.

"You heard me. You have to fuck me, Gee. You and I both need this to happen. Hell, we all need you back and this will help you to move on, to move past what that bastard did to you.” Frank breathed shallowly, his temperature rising as his blood moved fast within his veins as he tried to convince his boyfriend into doing something that no doubt seemed terrifying to him. “I want you back.”

Sure enough, Gerard was shaking his head wordlessly.

"Jeez, Frank, I can't;” He broke off, trying to find the right words. He stared at his boyfriend incredulously. “How the hell is my fucking you supposed to make any of this any better? I can't have sex, I just don't want it. It's as simple as that. And you know why-”

“Yeah, you've told me, Gerard. I know what he did, and I know what you went through. And I know it is still killing you inside. But don't you see? This is what you need to defeat him. Take the power back. Otherwise,” he tapped the side of his skull, “You are never gonna be free of him. None of us are.”

Gerard closed his eyes. “I can't do this, Frank. I just can't-”.

“Do you want me?” Frank asked him, and then lowered his hand from Gerard's face to instead rub at the other man's groin through his clothes. 

Gerard whimpered.

Frank licked his lips, and increased his actions, sensing Gerard's reactions to his touch.

“Feels like you want me;” Frank moaned into Gerard's ear. 

Gerard felt Frank's breath ghosting above his lips, and he shut his eyes and leaned in to take what he craved so intensely. The red head's lips covered the smaller man's and he kissed his lover with everything he had inside, all the pain, regret and nightmares that had been plaguing him since that day, and all of the passion, lust and love that he kept locked away and so desperately wanted to set free.

Frank, stopping his ministrations, wrapped his arms around Gerard and began to tug at his boyfriend's shirt, kissing him fiercely and wetly.

"Fuck me," Frank whispered into his ear. “I'm all yours.”

"Frank…" Gerard panted. "I know you think this is helping, but sex isn't the way. It's not gonna solve anything. Lindsey, my _wife_ , died in my arms earlier today-”

“This isn't about Lindsey, and you know it.” Frank growled. “This is about you and the bastard company that murdered her, just so they could fuck with you some more. This is about _you,_ Gerard. It's all about you.”

Gerard gritted his teeth. “Frank, I don't think-"

Frank swore loudly and then pulled away, his eyes blazing. "For fucks sake!” He actually grabbed Gerard by his shoulders and shook him hard. "Are you a fucking man or what? You're supposed to be Party Poison, leader of the feared Killjoys.” He was red in the face now, rage pumping through him. “Why can't you fuck me?"

Gerard widened his eyes, feeling his body growing hot and he flushed with embarrassment. Why was Frank doing this? He breathed needfully, staring at Frank through a haze of want and confusion.

"I just fucking can't, okay?" Gerard retorted, although from his tone it sounded, even to him, as if he was almost daring Frank to prove him wrong.

"Like fucking hell you can't!” Frank thundered. “You stupid bastard, you can fucking do whatever you want!” He was screaming now, so exasperated and desperate. There were angry tears glistening in his eyes, and he was pretty sure he was hurting Gerard as he tugged at his shirt but he could no longer bring himself to care. This had been his best chance, and he'd failed. How the hell was he going to ever get Gerard back now? Hell, he couldn't let this go. He had to keep trying. What choice did he have? He would not give up. "You can and you will, Way! Either you fuck me right now, or you aren't man enough for me or worthy of that woman who died today! I'll take you for nothing but a bitch who might have actually fucking _enjoyed_ what Korse did to him in that fucking store. Is that what really happened? Did you get on your stomach for him and spread your legs like a good little whore? Did you lay there, waiting for him to-"

Gerard struck Frank hard across the face.

The blow was so strong and unexpected, it knocked Frank off of the bed. He crashed to the ground, swearing in pain and feeling for his lip. He tasted blood before he raised his eyes and regarded the now standing and very red faced and furious looking Gerard with a wild, wolfish smile curved onto his lips.

_'At long fucking last.'_

"Who the fuck do you think you're talking to?” Gerard snarled, grabbing for Frank once more. “You don't fucking _get_ to tell me what I am and what I'm not, you hear me?" The red head launched himself at his lover then, snatching at Frank's shirt until he got a firm hold, and then tearing it off his chest. He found Frank's mouth and devoured him with his passionate kiss, tasting his blood, and then he kissed along Frank's chin and jaw line, causing Frank to groan from the violence of the attack.

Frank panted at the feel of Gerard's strong grip seizing and undressing him with a raw savagery and urgency that he had no longer believed the other man was capable of. Gerard then forced Frank down onto the wooden floor and then climbed up on to him and straddled him.

With a growl of impatience, he then began to work on releasing the other man's buckle.

"You don't ever say I'm not fucking worth you, you get me?” He ground out. “Or her. You'll never, _ever,_ fucking forget who you belong to, Frank Iero, because I'll fucking _brand_ you as mine! I'll fucking hear you scream my name again!" Gerard wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. No, he would not cry now. He was in charge here. He had to show Frank he was still worthy of him.

_He had to._

Frank writhed, trying to pull Gerard further down onto himself and, at the same time, trying to push him away. He felt like a wild animal, the adrenaline pumping though him making every inch of him ache with need and he felt like he would burn at Gerard's slightest touch. His headaches weren't there to haunt him then. Nothing could touch him. Only Gerard and his passion. He felt his trousers being pulled off of him, and then his boxers followed quickly after. 

With one hand grappling with his own belt, Gerard returned to ravishing Frank's mouth. With some effort, he finally had his own clothes around his ankles.

When he leaned back to stare once more at Frank, the animistic desire on his face almost took Frank's breath away.

"So, you want to me to fuck you?” Gerard spat. “Is that what you want?" His eyes burned into Frank's as he lifted the smaller man's thighs and settled between them.

"Do it,” Frank urged him. “Make me yours.” 

“Lube?” Gerard asked, but Frank shook his head.

“Do it without,” he answered, and then gasped when he felt Gerard position himself at his entrance. “Just do it. Take back what's yours.”

Gerard hesitated. He knew he would hurt Frank like hell without anything to ease his way, just like how Korse hurt him. But the red head was also beginning to understand. The pain didn't matter to Frank. In fact, he welcomed it. Frank needed to understand what was going on inside Gerard's head, and he needed to help him get past it. Frank wanted Gerard to feel something other than the shame and agony he had been living with since that day.

Frank needed Gerard. And Gerard would give him what he wanted as best as he were able.

"Are you sure you can take me?” Gerard whispered as he captured Frank's mouth in yet another bruising kiss.

"Prove to me that you are still Gerard Way."

Gerard raised an eyebrow. “Rebel leader? Lead singer?”

Frank stared at him. “Love of my life.”

Gerard fought back the tears. Then, with a loud cry, he forced himself inside of Frank, burying himself in that tight heat, and gasping as wave after pleasurable wave hit him full on. 

“Oh God!” He cried. “Frank!”

"Fuck!" Frank moaned, shutting his eyes from the pain.

"What's the matter?” Gerard hissed, grabbed Frank by the hair as he drove harder and deeper into his lover's body. “Is this too much? Too much for even the amazing Frank Iero?”

"Jesus, Gerard!" Frank opened his eyes and stared into his lover's, his gaze begging as he pulled him closer, welcoming the intense thrusts that were close to breaking him. 

"I'm right here," Gerard whispered, kissing the other man's neck and forehead with a tenderness that contrasted with the raw fucking.

"I need you," Frank sobbed, “I need you so fucking much.”

"I know, Frankie,” Gerard panted. “You have me." 

Frank's head thrashed about on the wooden floor. It hurt, it hurt so fucking much having Gerard ram in and out of him. Yet, just as he had expected, it was exactly what Frank needed, and he relished the pain. He shut his eyes and tried to relax, as he knew that if he did, the pain would ease off.

Gerard's thrustings picked up speed and his breathing speeded up. He found Frank's wrists and he held them firmly above his head, drunk from the surge of power that continued to wash over him.

"Is this what you wanted?” He drawled in the other man's ear. “To take me this deep? To feel me inside of you, owning you?”

Frank whimpered. “Yes. Don't you stop. Don't you leave me.”

Gerard cried out, his climax approaching quickly as he continued to pound into Frank.

“Come on babe,” Frank whispered. “Give it to me.”

With a wild cry, Gerard came, spilling his seed deep inside of Frank.

Frank closed his eyes as he felt Gerard filling his insides with his essence. He'd done it. Gerard had taken back the control he had lost. Frank had known all along that he would not take sexual pleasure from this himself that had not been the point. He was thrown by the depth of emotions he was experiencing. Yes, the pain was agonising and he would no doubt hurt for some time. He would maybe even need medical aid upon their arrival at the base, but in that precise second, it didn't matter. All that mattered was healing Gerard, for Gerard to know that only he had ownership of his own body, and, if he wanted it, control over Frank's as well. 

Gerard was gasping. He was weakened, exhausted but satisfied. He slumped down on top of Frank, and allowed his head to fall against the younger man's chest as they both tried to catch their breath.

Frank let his head weigh against the hardwood floor as he stared up at the ceiling. His arms cradled the body on top of him and he ruffed the fiery red hair. 

"Thank you," he murmured.

Gerard blinked.

"For what, Frank? For hurting you?"

"No," Frank turned his face, and their noses touched. "For making me understand."

Gerard smiled weakly, because it was clear now what Frank had just meant. Sex had been more the physical act, or causing pain, or even Gerard climaxing and regaining control; it had been a way of making them reconnect after everything they had been put through over the past few weeks. flourish.

"I'm sorry for before. I didn't know what to do, you know. Didn't know what to do for the best. I still find it so hard to imagine what you went through, what you are still going through, and I hate myself for not being there to save you from-”

Gerard stiffened a little, his defence mode kicking in on impulse and he tried to move away.

Frank tightened his hold. "Don't run." He beseeched.

At the sound of his lover's plea, Gerard relaxed. He allowed Frank to keep him close, and he stared down at the other man. “I still can't describe it to you. What he did to me, how he made me feel.” He closed his eyes. “And then, with Lindsey too, the fact that they could still fuck with my head like that, use a person as if she were nothing but a plaything-”

“I know, babe,” Frank murmured. “I know.”

“But then, you still wanted to touch me, and hold me;” Gerard muttered. “I was confused.”

Frank cringed. “I felt so wrong about touching you like that after…"

"Because you were disgusted. With me," Gerard moaned, sitting back on his heels and staring at the floor.

"No!" Frank knelt up at once, leaning closer to his lover, his tone firm. “You got it all wrong, Gee! I wasn't disgusted with you, not once. I was angry at that fucker, I hated him, and I was furious at myself, not at you! I didn't know how to help you through all of the shit, and I felt useless. I was useless.”

Gerard grabbed for Frank's hand. "No, Frankie, you gave me what I needed."

"Painful sex?"

Gerard shrugged, looking at his hands, unable to face Frank.

"Hope, I guess. Hope that I could feel something good. Even after what he did to me, and after what they did to Lindsey. After he fucked me that day, I didn't think I'd ever be able to feel anything ever again.” He paused, as he met Frank's stare; “But I feel something when I'm with you."

There was an uncomfortable silence following Gerard's words, and then Frank grabbed his lover and pulled him into a tight embrace, not wanting to let him go.

Finally, they pulled apart. Frank stood, and dressed quickly, tossing Gerard his shirt as he did so.

“We better get sorted,” he said, flashing Gerard a knowing smile. “The others will be back soon.”

Gerard nodded. “Shame we can't stay here all day.” He noted, and winked.

Frank chuckled. He couldn't describe what a relief it was for him to see Gerard so much brighter, something akin to his former self.

“You gonna be okay if I just nip out for a quick smoke?” Frank asked his lover.

Gerard nodded. “Sure.” He yawned, and stretched. “I could do with that rest now, anyway. My body's aching even more now.”

Frank couldn't help but grin. “Not surprised,” he teased. “You animal.”

Gerard gave him a playful punch. “Kiss me, Ghoul;” he ordered, and Frank quickly complied, placing his lips against the older man's. 

Then, with a smirk, he hurried to the door, threw it open, and slipped out into the hot night, leaving his lover dozing happily on the bed behind him.

Gerard placed his hands behind his head, and smiled. For the first time in a long while, he could actually feel something within him that resembled peace. He sighed contently. 

_Maybe, just maybe, they could get through this after all._

XXX

Frank puffed on his cigarette, staring into space, trying to clear his thoughts. He did ache still, but it was a contented, necessary pain. Finally, they had made some progress. He knew this was only the beginning, that Gerard would need a lot more time. There was a lot more recovering for his lover to do, he needed plenty more time to heal, physically and mentally. There was still a long way for them all to go. And Frank would ensure that Gerard got all the time he needed.

He tossed the cigarette aside. Eventually, Frank would have to talk to Gerard about his own pains and fears but that was a conversation for another day, a long way away from this place. Right now, Gerard was all that mattered. 

He paused, hearing a noise behind him. Someone was approaching.

He smiled. Mikey and Ray had been quicker than he'd expected.

“You guys were quick...” He began, but he never had the chance to finish his sentence.

He was grabbed viciously from behind, his arms pinned helplessly at his sides. He tried to cry out but a sweaty hand was swiftly clamped over his mouth.

And that was when he heard that hated chuckle. His eyes widened.

_'No. It couldn't be.'_

His worst fears were quickly realised, when he heard Korse's taunting voice in his ear, causing his insides to squirm. “Good to see you again, Frank.”

Frank struggled desperately, but he couldn't get free. He was at Korse's mercy.

The Korse he had killed a week ago.

When Korse spoke again, his voice was dripping with pure evil.

“Do you mind if I borrow your boyfriend for a while?”

Frank tried to shout out, to scream at Korse to stay the hell away from Gerard, but it was useless. 

And when he felt the ray gun nudging against his back, he could do nothing but wait anxiously as Korse pulled the trigger. The last thing he heard was Korse's mocking chuckle as he plunged into the blackness that was consuming him.

Korse allowed the unconscious Killjoy to slip carefully to the ground. He stood over the man who had tried to end his life mere days ago, considering his options. He raised his gun once more, wanting nothing more but to shoot him again, this time to kill.

He paused. Frank Iero was still useful, killing him was not the plan.

Korse finally averted his gaze from Frank. With a widening smile, he set off toward the small building before him. 

_Show time._

TBC.


	18. Chapter 18

Gerard closed his eyes and sighed contently. Frank had only been gone two minutes, and he was missing him already. It was stupid. They were not a couple of kids, enjoying love for the first time. They were Killjoys, and they needed to stay alert, there had to be no distractions. But, everything felt transformed, even _he_ felt different now. He felt almost renewed, redeemed in some way. Yes, Frank had probably gone too far, but Gerard knew he'd done what he felt was the right thing; and even though his words had cut through Gerard like a knife, Frank had said them out of pure frustration. Gerard had finally taken back some of what had been stolen from him, and it felt amazing. It was as if Frank's love had begun to wash the shame away. He could finally close his eyes again, and not be haunted by _that_ day and what happened to him in _that_ room. He was finally on his way to being free of it, and he knew, without any doubt, that Frank loved him unconditionally. How could he not know that after everything they had been through? Frank would never leave him, or hurt him. He would keep him safe. He flickered his eyes open again, smiling to himself as he recalled Frank's recent words to him:

_“You think it was Party Poison I fell in love with? It wasn't. It was Gerard Way. Long before the wars, even before the band. He thought you changed your name because you're ashamed of being Gerard Way. Well, I think he's actually pretty awesome.”_

Gerard rolled off of the bed and stretched. He was tired but for the first time in days, he didn't feel weighed down by his own haunted thoughts and emotions. Yes, of course it would take more than one night to heal him, and the pain of losing Lindsey was still so fresh, but perhaps, for the first time, he could actually see some light at the end of the tunnel. With the others' help, he had a chance to make it out of the dark.

He may have lost so much, far too much for any person to stand, but he still had Frank, Mikey and Ray. He didn't want to feel like a victim any more. Why should he? He had survived. 

He was one of the lucky ones. 

As he grabbed his boxers and jeans and swiftly pulled them on, grimacing from the pain the quick action caused, he did something he hadn't done for a long time, not including the few lines he had sung to Lindsey. He sang just to himself, something he hadn't done since before the bombs had dropped. He didn't know why is suddenly popped into his head, a song he had written so many years ago and hadn't even thought of for so long. But the words just kept flooding back to him, and he sang up, proudly:

_“But you really need to listen to me, Because I'm telling you the truth, I mean this, I'm okay.”_

Gerard chuckled as the memories came hurtling back. Him on stage, surrounded by Frank, Ray and Mikey, his friends, his family. His band. He saw an audience in front of him, he couldn't see the back of the crowd, there were so many people. He heard them cheering, and shouting, and calling his name. He saw excited faces, and so many lights, and arms in the air all moving together in unison. He closed his eyes, savouring the memory. It filled him with so much pleasure, recalling a time that he had decided to put behind him, a time he had chosen to move on from, because he had had too. For the sake of everyone he loved, he had left all of that behind, they all had. 

Because Better Living had come along, and everything had changed. 

_He_ had changed.

He balled his hands into fists as he sang again, staring into space. He punched the air in time with the words he sung, another song he thought he had lost, from the past:

_“Lets shout it loud and clear, Defiant to the end, we hear the call, To carry on.”_

He grinned. It felt good, singing again. It felt – reinvigorating. This was altogether different to when he had been with Lindsey. That moment had been about regret; he had felt sad for the past and for everything he had lost. Now, he was singing because some hope restored inside of him. Singing had always been a release for him. Now, it was again.

The lyrics, the melodies, the _memories._ They were all he needed.

He was so lost in those memories that he didn't really react when he heard the door opening and shutting behind him quietly. He smiled. Frank was back already.

“Hey Frank, you were quick. I was just reminiscing about-”.

But the cold, snarling voice that interrupted him was certainly not Frank's.

“I heard you, Gerard. Very nice. That was always one of my very favourites. Sing me some more.”

Gerard froze. All the happiness was sucked out of him as if into a vacuum. He didn't turn around or even dare to breathe.

_'No.'_

_'That's impossible.'_

_'He's dead.'_

The hated voice came again.

“Have you got nothing to say to me then, Gerard? How rude of you. No 'hello', or 'Long time no see'?” The sound of mocking laughter filled the room, making Gerard cringe with disbelief and unbridled horror. That gut wrenching feeling of despair only grew inside of him when he heard Korse's hushed words; “I've missed you, Killjoy.”

Gerard took a deep breath, still praying this was his crazed imagination playing a very cruel trick on him, before turning very slowly around. He shook his head dumbly, his eyes widening, when he came face to face with the man that had haunted his dreams for days. 

The man whose bloodied and beaten body he had seen at Frank's feet. 

_Broken and dead._

How was he standing before him now, leering, looking not only alive but perfectly well?

Korse regarded him closely, an eyebrow raised in amusement. Still chuckling, he swung round quickly, smirking when he saw the key in the lock. He turned it, locking the door and trapping Gerard inside with him, before slipping the key into his trench coat pocket. Then, he began to advance on Gerard, who backed away, cowering, still clearly not believing what was undoubtedly before his eyes.

“You're not here,” Gerard whispered. “I'm dreaming.”

The Exterminator's lips twitched. “Are you?”

“I saw you,” the Killjoy managed, still shaking his head in disbelief. “You were finished. Frank killed you.”

At that, Korse threw back his head and laughed coldly. 

“I'm disappointed in you, Gerard. Did you really think it would be _that_ easy?” The evil man smiled. “You actually thought it was all over?”

Gerard closed his eyes, screwing up his face. _This. Was. Not. Happening._

“No one can come back from the dead. Not even you.”

Korse smiled evilly. “Well obviously, you've got that wrong.”

Gerard opened his eyes again, looking past the smirking Korse, at the door beyond him, and freedom. An apparition of not, he knew he would only have one chance of making it past Korse, and he would have to choose his moment soon, if he was going to get out of there alive. It was a choice of that or be put through whatever ordeal Korse had in store for him. And Gerard knew that finding out what that was would not be the best option.

He took a deep breath. “Where's Frank?”

Korse's grin widened.

Gerard felt his insides churn. _Oh God. No._

“If you've hurt him, I'll-”

The hated man chuckled. “Maybe you should worry more for yourself right about now, Gerard.”

Gerard thought quickly. He had to keep Korse talking as long as possible, and put Frank to the back of his mind for now. Ray and Mikey would return soon. “How did you do it?” He asked, through clenched teeth. “I saw you dead.”

Korse grinned, showing teeth. “You think the company would leave us defenceless against our own drugs?” He tutted. “Gerard, I'm disappointed. The stories I read about you built you up to be so much more intelligent.” He leaned against the table, his eyes boring into Gerard's. “Overdoses can be unfortunately common in this job, we exterminators have to protect ourselves.” He laughed quietly. “The company have life savers on stand by, just in case the odd important worker takes one dose to many. When the torture drug that your little boyfriend injected into me took control of me, my body protected itself and I ended up in a coma.” 

Gerard blinked. “How?”

“Our scientists are the best in the world, sweetheart.” Korse boasted. “We can do anything. Hold back death, even.” His voice seemed to rise an octave as he continued. “As my heart began to stop beating, my body's defences sprung into action, and I completely shut down. No breath, no heart beat, no signs of life. To anyone looking on, including your irritating little lover boy, I appeared completely dead. But instead, I was merely in a deep sleep, waiting to be awakened.” 

Gerard actually took a step forward, his hands balled at his side. “If you've laid one finger on Frank, I swear to God-”.

Korse waved a hand away. “Spare your threats, rebel. They are meaningless. Frank is not my concern, he has _never_ been my concern. _You_ are all I want.” He leered as his eyes swept over Gerard's body. “And now I get to _carry on_ exactly where I left off.”

Gerard stared at Korse, wide eyed. The evil man winked, and then tried to make a grab for him, uncoiling like a snake. Gerard was prepared enough to read Korse's intention, and he nipped to one side, with a hiss from the sharp pain, successfully avoiding the older man's sudden attack. Korse swore and whirled round, coming for Gerard once more, but again the Killjoy was ready, and with a yell of intent, he smashed his fist into Korse's face. Korse was surprised by the force of the blow, and was actually knocked off balance. Gerard took his small opportunity, and, gritting his teeth in preparation for the pain he knew he was about to experience, he dived for the door.

He actually nearly made it.

Just as he touched the handle, he felt a hand wrap around his uninjured ankle and pull him back. With an anguished cry, Gerard fell to the ground. Korse was upon him at once, pinning him down beneath him and snarling furiously into his face. Again, Gerard fought back, kicking out at Korse with his good foot, trying to dislodge the other man. It wasn't just Korse Gerard was battling with now, his own demons had resurfaced and he was terrified, that same fear as before now threatening to over power him. He fought desperately, refusing to allow his weakness to take control of him again. He was not about to simply _let_ Korse win again. He would go down fighting this time. 

He was Gerard Way. He was not Korse's broken little toy.

Korse, his teeth bared, managed to grab Gerard's flailing arms and pin them down by his sides. He then proceeded to punch Gerard in the face repeatedly, until the younger man's face was a mess of blood and bruises, and his struggles finally began to subside. Sensing his victory, Korse gave a wolfish grin, and then wrapped his hands around Gerard's throat and began to squeeze. Gerard instantly began to gasp for breath as Korse throttled the life out of him. The Killjoy knew he had seconds remaining before being overcome. With a desperate cry, he managed to wrench his right hand free and began to feel around, searching for anything he could use as a weapon. And, sure enough, his hand grasped something heavy and, straining from the effort, he picked the object up and struck Korse on the side of the head with it. In his weakened state, he couldn't get any force behind the blow, but it did the job, taking his tormentor by surprise. Korse let out a stunned cry and rolled off of Gerard, also releasing his hold on the younger man's neck. Gerard rubbed at his throat, taking in big gulps of air. And then, Gerard was scrambling to his feet as quickly as he was able, clinging to the wall for support. And then he was reaching for the door handle and he was nearly free, and he turned the knob, already calling for Frank-

The door didn't open.

His heart stopped. He tried again. Still nothing. The door was locked. He whimpered loudly, desperately pulling on the door.

It wouldn't budge.

He banged the door with his fist, completely devastated, and cried out for the one man he wanted to see more than any other.

“Frank, help me! I'm trapped! _Frank!”_

He heard that hated chuckle behind him and he closed his eyes. He knew he was in huge trouble.

“Sorry,” Korse was taunting him. He had blood pouring from a now nasty wound on the side of his head which he was dabbing at with a bandanna. Gerard's bandanna. Gerard glared at it, knowing he must have left it behind in that store, on _that_ day. As he continued to stare hatefully at Korse, the Killjoy could see that the injury he had inflicted looked far worse than it actually was. Sadly. Especially with the amount of drugs Korse had inside of him. The man was virtually unstoppable at that moment; there was simply no way Gerard that could ever beat him in a fist fight. He'd always known that of course, now he'd just had it proven for him. Korse grinned evilly as he advanced on the helpless rebel. “Didn't you notice that I'd locked the door?”

Gerard banged his fist uselessly against the wooden door keeping him prisoner one more time. “Frankie? Please help me!”

“I don't think so,” Korse snapped. He grabbed Gerard again, gaining a firm grip on his hair and forced him away from the door, dragging him over to the bed.

“Get off of me,” Gerard hissed. “Stop!”

Korse smiling widely, shoved Gerard violently, and the red head fell backwards, tumbling on to the small table in the centre of the room, and he lay atop it, dazed. Before he had the opportunity to regroup, Korse was upon him. The exterminator quickly took hold of both of his arms and pinned them down at his sides firmly. There was to be no wriggling free this time, he was trapped.

“You know you can't win this. Stop using up your strength. Why don't you just lay still while I tell you a story?”

Gerard tried his best to struggle but it was hopeless. Korse was right, he had him exactly where he wanted him. 

The other man sneered down at him, his face horribly close to his victim's, as he hissed; “While I was researching you and the other Zone Runners, I happened to come across some very interesting information concerning you and the other Killjoys, Gerard Way.”

Gerard stared up at him, wide eyed, trying to catch his breath. 

Korse's eyes glinted.

“Real eye opening stuff. You all used to be rock stars, didn't you?”

_Shit._

Gerard gritted his teeth and closed his eyes.

Korse smirked. “Don't go shy on me, Way!” He gave him a playful slap. “You were in a very popular rock band, once upon a time, weren't you? A band called My Chemical Romance, yes?” He paused. “And I do believe, you were the singer. Am I correct?”

The red head didn't respond.

“Sing me something!” Korse demanded, with a smirk.

Gerard's eyes shot open and he grimaced. _No fucking way._

“You think I'm playing your sick game? You're gonna be very fucking disappointed.”

“Why won't you sing? You used to be quite good, from what I've read.” Korse grinned. “Why won't you let me hear you?”

“Why don't you go fuck yourself?”

“Now, now.” Korse snarled, grabbing Gerard viciously by the hair and slamming his head back against the wood, rendering him immobile. “Don't be like that. I just want to hear you sing for me!”

“No.” Gerard growled.

Korse pouted. “Bad form, Gerard. You'd deny me, _a fan,_ this one simple request?” He stoked Gerard's cheek with his finger gently. “ _Sing.”_

Gerard saw red. He tried to wriggle free from beneath Korse, throwing his body around, desperate in his efforts to dislodge the other man. 

Korse grew weary of Gerard's constant resistance against him. And, with a cruel smirk, he stroked Gerard's stomach. “How's the recovery going?” He enquired, and then punched the younger man just above his rib. The rib that was still on the mend after their previous encounter. Gerard threw back his head and screamed in pure agony. His struggles ended at once. Korse, grinning sadistically, then grabbed for Gerard's shattered ankle. “How about the broken bones?” He gripped the ankle and twisted it. Gerard's anguished cry filled the room once more as he dedesperately tried to pull away from Korse. The Exterminator suddenly looked towards the door in alarm, and he slammed a hand quickly over Gerard's mouth, stifling his cries. He snarled at his victim, ordering him to “shush,” and then he eyed the door warily. He held his breath, waiting to see if Frank, or any of other Killjoys who could return at any moment, could have heard their leaders cries and were about to come rushing to his rescue. He waited for several moments, but there was no sounds at all from the other side of the door. Korse nodded satisfactorily. 

“The rest of the injuries are healing well, I see;” He noted. “Our drugs have done their work.”

Gerard seethed at this. “Bert...” He muttered.

Korse tilted his head. “Who?”

The red head grimaced. “The man you sent to join us, and then betray us.”

“Never heard of him.”

Gerard shook his head. “You're lying.”

Korse laughed. “Am I?” He leaned in closer to the distressed Killjoy. “You _still_ think you can fight me? After everything? Haven't you learnt your lesson yet, Gerard?” 

Gerard squirmed. No matter how severe the abuse was that he suffered at Korse's hand, he was not going to simply lay there and take it. Not any more. He was still in shock that Korse had even reappeared, plus his body was screaming it's outrage at him, but he was not going to be this man's victim any longer. Dead or alive, Korse was not going to have control over him ever again.

Steeling himself, Gerard leaned forward, and spat right into Korse's face, catching the other man square in the eye.

Korse froze. He reddened as he stared down at the stricken man beneath him. 

Then, very slowly, he pulled a piece of old rag from his pocked and dabbed at the sticky substance with it, wiping the phlegm and spit out of his eyes, as he glared down at Gerard calmly. Suddenly, he grabbed him round the throat once more, and pulled Gerard up until they were a hairs length away from each other. “That was disgusting, rebel.” He snarled. “If you want to act like an animal, I'm very happy to treat you like one.” And then, he grabbed Gerard with both hands and threw him off of the table and on to the floor, Gerard screamed again, landing awkwardly on his stomach. He lay there trembling, unable to even crawl away, the pain was so intense. Within seconds, Korse was upon him, putting his whole weight down on Gerard, pinning him completely to the ground. “Is this more comfortable?” He growled in the other man's ear. “It's certainly more familiar, isn't it?”

Gerard's fully realised the position they were now in, and his primal fear took over. Not again. He couldn't go through this again. 

“NO!” He screamed, losing all calm as his panic set in. “Don't!”

Korse merely laughed. 

Tears began to cascade down Gerard's face. This was going to happen. Korse was going to rape him again. He needed Frank. Frank couldn't have abandoned him. He wouldn't. He promised he would protect him.

“Frank, where are you?” Gerard whimpered. “Please Frank! Help me! FRANK!”

Suddenly, Korse caught Gerard's flailing wrists and held them tightly. The red head then heard a clink of metal, and he cringed at the sound. Then, his cries for help intensified when Korse handcuffed his wrists together behind his back. Korse laughed again, and then grabbed Gerard once more and rolled him over so Gerard was now lying on his back, staring up at Korse, wide eyed and terrified.

Korse grabbed Gerard's hair, and growled into his ear. “Why do I need to take you by force, Way? Soon enough, you'll be begging me to fuck you.”

Gerard shook his head madly. “Never gonna beg...”

Korse raised an eyebrow. “Oh? You think you're not already mine?” He began to stoke Gerard's hair, and then moved his hand down, caressing his cheek.

For Gerard, gentle touches were worse than the pain.

“No,” He moaned. “Keep away.”

Korse merely chuckled.

Gerard struggled against the hand cuffs again, willing them to come free with the mere force of his will. But this was the real world, wasn't it? The cruel, heartless and unjust real world. His efforts were useless.

Gerard closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. He was well and truly trapped in his own living hell.

Korse slowly slid his hands down Gerard's bare chest, taking great pleasure in Gerard's whimpers and gasps. Gerard's discomfort was all that Korse wanted to see and the Killjoy cringed. It was obvious how much pleasure Korse took in touching him, tormenting him. The evil man's hateful smirk grew as he roughly pulled down Gerard's boxers in one fluid motion. 

The Killjoy cried out, trying to kick out at Korse, but it was hopeless. "Don't fucking touch me!” He managed “You perverted piece of fucking trash. Just keep your filthy hands away from me!” Korse laughed as struck Gerard across the face and then grabbing his jaw painfully, forcing the other man to look up at him. 

“As if it has ever mattered to me what you wanted, Way.” 

Gerard yelled his outrage then, thrashing around, fighting through the pain, screaming for help to any one who could listen. He _had_ to fight back and not just lay there and allow this atrocity to happen to him, but Korse merely smiled at his efforts and used his weight to hold Gerard down. The Killjoy closed his eyes tightly, no longer wanting to see that sneering face above him. He knew there was nothing he could do. This was what he had become; a sick, twisted man's plaything and he was completely incapable of stopping Korse from doing exactly as he wanted.

“You are so pretty, Killjoy;” Korse drawled. “Did you know that? Have I mentioned it before?”

Korse reached out, taking a firm hold on Gerard's penis, and began to stroke him. 

“Stop it!” He spat. “You sick fuck!”

“I wonder what it would take to make the great Party Poison scream for me?” Korse leered, smiling as Gerard began to respond to his ministrations, just as he knew he would. The human body could always be relied upon. “Oh, not much then-”

Gerard squirmed. He was hating every second of this. How could his body betray him so easily?

He found himself bucking into the Exterminator's hand, and then whimpered in shame. He found himself saying anything to save himself from the torment. Whatever he thought Korse wanted to hear: “Please, I'm sorry! Okay? I'm sorry. Just leave me alone.”

Korse shrugged. “Seems like you want this to me.”

“Not you...” Gerard moaned. “Never gonna be you... I hate you...”

“Sticks and stones, Party Poison.”

“I want... Frank...”

Korse laughed. “Do you now? So, where _is_ your precious Fun Ghoul? He seems to have left you to your fate.”

He tightened his hold and quickened his strokes, causing the other man to thrust harder into his hand. Sexual assault was a useful torture tool, just not one Korse had preferred to use until recently. He smiled down at Gerard as he watched the other man squirm as his orgasm slowly built up. He could also see that Gerard didn't want it, was uselessly trying to fight against his body's natural urges, but he needn't had bothered. 

Korse knew that he was in total control.

_Gerard Way was nothing more than a whore._

Gerard could do nothing to stop the tears flowing down his cheeks.

He gasped, moaning and writhing in the other man's grip. 

“Please.” Gerard cried out. “Don't do this to me!”

Korse merely laughed. “Too late for that, Gerard Way. Far too late.”

Gerard turned his head to the side. He knew he had reached total degradation.

_'I don't want this.'_

He was breathing faster now.

_'What must I look like?'_

He was close. God help him, he was going to come.

_'I am nothing'._

And then he was coming, crying out a desperate “NO!” as he spilled his seed into Korse's hand. The other man, laughing spitefully, kept pumping him until he had milked Gerard of every last drop.

As the Killjoy lay there, staring up at the ceiling and panting, Korse stopped laughing, leaned forward, and kissed Gerard possessively on the lips.

Gerard didn't even react. He had no fight left. Any progress he had made had left him.

“Do you understand _now,_ Killjoy?” Korse slurred. “You really don't have any choices any more. Not in anything. You belong to BL/I.” He grinned and leaned in until he was nose to nose with his victim. “You belong to me.”

Gerard shook his head. _“Frank...”_

Korse simply laughed. “Frank? You're precious little boyfriend? Is that all you can say?”

“He'll come...”

“Let him!” Korse exclaimed, wiping Gerard's sticky mess over his chest. “If he did, if he came flying through that door like a knight in shining armour, well maybe his intention wouldn't actually be to save you.”

Gerard stared up at him, incredulously. _What the fuck?_

“You have no idea-”

Korse's eyes narrowed. “Oh, you think so?”

“He loves me.”

“Right. So that's why he forced you to have sex earlier?” Korse tilted his head, his gaze boring into Gerard's. “He manipulated you, Way, and then made you fuck him senseless, against your wishes.”

Gerard blinked. “It wasn't like that. You're twisting it-”

“Really? Then you tell me, rebel. How was your sex with Frank any more your choice then the act I just performed on you?”

Gerard's stubborn smile faltered. “ _You_ just raped me. _Frank_ would never hurt me.”

Korse smiled. He leaned in closer, so his lips were practically touching Gerard's. “Wouldn't he? Didn't he tell you I was dead? Didn't he tell you to trust him? Didn't he swear he would never let you down? How can you trust him now, Poison? How do you know he doesn't already belong to us? Just like Lindsey?”

Gerard glared. “Don't mention her name!”

Korse chuckled. “I thought you'd appreciate my gift? Obviously not.”

The Killjoy gritted his teeth. “You'll pay for what happened to her.”

“She wasn't the only love in your life, was she? You and Frank go back a long way, don't you, Gerard?”

Gerard said nothing. Korse was bluffing. He couldn't know everything. He just couldn't.

“You didn't answer me!” Korse snapped. “How can you still trust him after he forced you into sex? It doesn't matter who was on top, Gerard, or who had the control. He still forced you into it when you told him no...”

Gerard shook his head furiously. “He did it for me.”

Korse threw back his head and laughed scornfully. “Really? Then what was the point of the words he used?”

The red head narrowed his eyes. “I don't fucking know what you're talking about, Korse.”

The Exterminator smirked. Putting on a high, whiny voice, he then began to impersonate Frank, and Gerard recognised, with a growing feeling of dread, his conversation with Frank from the previous day, before Lindsey had returned:

_“No expectations on you whatsoever. But I need you to trust me again. I need you to feel safe. You don't have to be afraid any more. I'll never let anyone hurt you again, Gerard. When you close your eyes, you won't have to see him. You'll see me instead. I love you, Gee.”_

Korse finished and turned to regard Gerard, his eyes blazing. “Ring any bells?”

Gerard's blood had turned to ice. How did Korse know? He and Frank had been alone, no one near by. What the fuck was going on?

Bringing him back to the present quickly, Korse once more grabbed Gerard by the throat and shook him. Gerard stared at him with wide, fearful eyes. He had no arguments now, no weapons left to fight with. His very soul was in danger of breaking.

What did this all mean?

He wouldn't even think of the possible betrayal by the man he adored. He couldn't. There had to be another explanation. Frank would never lie to him, never hurt him.

Never.

“You feel safe, Killjoy?” Korse snarled in his ear. “You think you have loved ones around you? People who will protect you, fight for you? You're wrong. They are mine. You will never be free of me, Gerard. _You are mine.”_

Gerard could only gasp in response. He couldn't breath.

Then, Korse released him, with a growl of; “Sing!”

Gerard coughed, trying to draw rasping breaths.

“Please...” He pleaded in a tiny voice. “Don't make me...”

Korse didn't let up. “I told you to sing.”

“Don't contaminate who I used to be.” The tears came again as Gerard's voice broke. “I'm begging you...”

Korse gripped his hair and pulled so painfully that Gerard let out a shocked cry.

“I SAID, FUCKING SING!”

Gerard whimpered again. He had no choice. He searched through his memories desperately, finally remembering an other song from the past, and with a defeated sob, he began to sing, shame and humiliation coursing through him as he fought to recall the words from so long ago:

_“Ever, Get the feeling that you're never, All alone and I remember now...”_

“Louder!” Korse snapped, interrupting.

Gerard's cheeks burned as he forced himself to sing up, as loud as he could.

_“At the top of my lungs in my arms she dies. She dies...”_

He closed his eyes as despair flooded through him once more. _Oh God, the lyrics... LynZ..._

Korse smirked. “Open your fucking eyes!”

After a second, Gerard did so, looking up again at the hated man.

“I want to hear you, Gerard.” Korse instructed him. He looked practically euphoric. “I want to be impressed by the great rock star I am lucky enough to have in my presence. Now, fucking sing for me!”

Gerard all but shouted the next lines, his throat cracked and sore. 

_“At the end of the world, Or the last thing I see. You are never coming home, Never coming home...”_

This was the ultimate shame for him. The band, the memories, the happy times; they were all he had left that were all good, all pure, all his. Now they belonged to Korse too, just like everything else he had ever been, and would ever be.

_“Could I? Should I?'”_

He strained to reach the high notes, having not tested his voice for so long, and he cringed as Korse tutted, and grimaced, as if in pain from the sound.

“Bit rusty there, rock star.” The hated man taunted.

Gerard ignored him. He sang on, staring past Korse, at a spot on the ceiling.

_“And all the things that you never ever told me, And all the smiles that are ever gonna haunt me...”_

Korse laughed softly. “You got that right, Gerard. Prophet as well as a genius then?”

Gerard writhed. He couldn't stand it any more. In many ways, this was worst then the assault. Now, Korse was raping a lot more than just his body. He was taking everything that Gerard was, and ripping it apart. And Gerard was letting it happen.

Korse reached out gently and stroked Gerard's hair. “I think I've heard enough, for now.” He smiled. “Now, we understand each other, don't we, Gerard? This can all end only one way. With you giving in to me completely-”

Suddenly, they both heard a noise from outside, cutting Korse off. He looked up sharply, and Gerard instantly began to call out again.

_“Frankie...!!”_

“Shut up!” Korse hissed, covering Gerard's mouth with his hand. “You say another word and I will kill anyone foolish enough to walk into this room. Understand?”

Gerard whimpered, but nodded his acknowledgement.

“Time for me to go,” Korse snarled, and began to drag Gerard up off the floor. “It's been a pleasure, Way.”

There were more noises from outside the door, and then the sound of muffled voices. Somebody tried to open the door.

“What the fuck?” A worried voice snapped. “Why the fuck is it locked?”

_Mikey._

That was all Gerard needed to hear. He bit down hard on Korse's hand, and the exterminator swore, pulling his hand away in anger.

“Mikey!” Gerard cried. “Help me!”

“Gerard!” Frank's voice called and he sounded terrified. “Korse is back!”

Gerard could have rolled his eyes, if the situation wasn't so hopeless.

Frank's desperate voice came again. “Are you alright, sugar?”

Korse scoffed, and then doubled his efforts in dragging the suddenly very resisting Killjoy to the open window. Gerard couldn't help his cheeks turning redder, his pants and boxers were still around his ankles and the evidence of what Korse had done to him was still all to clear on his chest and thighs...

Frank was still yelling.

“Gerard, answer me!”

Still, Gerard fought valiantly against the man now half dragging, half carrying him across the room.

“Frank, Korse is in here with me, he'll shoot you if you come in here.”

There was silence for a few seconds.

And then, the efforts at the door returned with a vengeance.

“Let him go!” Frank was shouting. “You fucking piece of shit!”

“Aw, I think he wants to save you.” Korse mocked. “Or, is he saying exactly what I programmed him to say?”

“You're a fucking liar,” Gerard spat. “Frank would never betray us.” He paused, reconsidering his words. “He'd never betray _me.”_

Korse chuckled in Gerard's ear. "Are you sure?"  
Gerard hesitated.

Before he could reply, there was the sound of a count down from outside; “One, two, three!” And suddenly, the door burst open and three very furious and worried sick Killjoys stormed into the room.

Frank rushed forward. “GERARD!”

Korse chuckled, held up his ray gun, and placed it against the rebel leader's head. He shook his head at Frank.

“Deja Vu, Ghoul;” he noted. “Don't move.”

Frank stayed perfectly still, his ray gun trained on Korse. Ray was stood to the left of Frank, his own gun raised and ready. Mikey, meanwhile, moved toward Korse and his prisoner, his face displaying his hatred.

“You let him fucking go,” Mikey growled. “Now.”

Korse laughed. “I don't think so.”

There was a quick intake of breath from Ray and Frank glanced over at him. Ray caught Frank's glance, then hurriedly looked away. After turning his gaze back to Gerard, Frank, to his horror, saw what had dismayed Ray even further. He saw what was smeared onto Gerard's chest, and the same evidence coating his thighs, and hate and rage erupted inside of Frank. His boyfriend had been abused again.

By the evil man Frank had truly believed he had banished from their lives forever. Now, he was back to haunt them.

Frank's gaze quickly switched to Mikey. If the younger Way had noticed Gerard's state, he wasn't showing it.

Gerard wouldn't meet any of their worried glances. Frank knew why. He was too ashamed.

Frank would put a stop to this. He wasn't going to stand and watch as Korse tormented the man he loved for a second time. “I don't know how you are fucking alive, you sick bastard. But you are going to regret touching him again.

Korse burst out laughing as he dragged Gerard backwards toward the open window. 

“I'm sure,” he told Frank, and then he winked at him. “Got to say, you certainly helped the cause a lot. That made it so much fun to break him down again. Thanks for that, Iero. Good job.”

Gerard flinched. Frank saw, and he frowned. The brunette's finger covered the trigger but he knew none of them had a clear shot.

“When I see you all again, it will be the last time you get to spend with your precious leader. So, I'd make the most of him. Until the next time Killjoys, I bid you good night!”

And, with that, he released Gerard, who fell to the floor, unable to support his own weight. As he did so, Frank immediately fired, the blast just missing Korse by inches. Swearing at his misfortune, Frank made forward, but Korse was quicker. He dived out of the window, and was then running. In seconds, he had disappeared into the night. As Frank stood there, he could have sworn he saw a blue light in the distance.

He tightened his hold on his gun. Korse had escaped. Again.

Turning back round, Frank looked to see Mikey was beside his brother, his arm around him, whispering words of comfort. Ray had grabbed the blanket that had been lying in the corner of the room and crossed the room quickly, draping it over the shivering Gerard, giving his friend back some dignity.

Frank was beside Gerard in an instant. His boyfriend's head was buried in Mikey's shoulder, and he was sobbing uncontrollably.

Frank reached out gingerly and stroked Gerard's hair.

At his touch, Gerard instantly pulled back from Mikey and looked at Frank with wide, frightened eyes. 

Frank's heart sank.

He tried to comfort Gerard again, and this time Gerard recoiled, turning his head away.

Frank wanted to cry himself. He had got somewhere that night, Gerard had responded to him and now it had all been for nothing.

Korse had been correct. Gerard was broken once more.

“Gee,” Frank whispered. “I'm here.”

Gerard didn't respond.

Frank swallowed. _Shit._

“How did he survive?” Mikey suddenly asked, his eyes locked on the trembling form of his brother. “You said he was dead, Frank.”

“He was,” Frank replied cuttingly. “There's no way he could have survived those drugs I injected him with.”

Ray shook his head. “Well, he obviously did, didn't he?”

Frank opened his mouth to tell Ray exactly what he thought but Ray's look made Frank reconsider. He glanced down.

Ray looked back over at Gerard, his look of worry increasing.

“Well, however its happened, Korse is back, and Gerard will tell us when he's ready. This does make one thing very obvious.”

“What's that?” Mikey queried.

“Frank was wrong.”

Frank clenched his fists. “Excuse me?”

“Either it wasn't Bert who betrayed us, or he's had some help.” Ray continued, grimly. “Gerard sent Bert away but Korse found us anyway. So, either he's tracking us somehow or-” 

Ray broke off, unable to finish. It was too horrific to contemplate.

They all stared at each other. Gerard finally looked back up and his hazel eyes bored into Ray's.

“Go on, Ray.” The red head whispered, his voice raspy. “Finish the sentence.”

Ray swallowed hard, and then spoke again, the words they were all thinking but didn't want to state.

“Or one of us is a traitor too.”

TBC


	19. Chapter 19

Gerard was still crouching on the floor; his hands remained cuffed behind his back. He wouldn't even look at his fellow Killjoys, and he was visibly trembling. To Mikey's concern, he had no way of knowing whether the trembling was down to Gerard's fear and distress at his ordeal, or if he was suffering in pain. He also did not know if Gerard would only get sicker if they didn't get him some help, and quickly. Gerard turned his head away with shame as Mikey carefully pushed Ray's jacket to one side, and then pulled up his brother's trousers, sparing him any further humiliation. Gerard didn't speak; he continued to stare at the wall.

Frank was keeping out of the way, still hurting from the way that Gerard had recoiled when he had attempted to comfort him. Frank knew he was being unreasonable, and that Gerard had, once again, been put through a living hell by the man he feared above all others, but that didn't change how Frank felt in that moment. It killed him inside that Gerard couldn’t stand Frank being near him, couldn't trust him the way he did Mikey, despite the fact that he had given Gerard his body and heart. But it wasn't enough.

Ray walked up to Frank, being careful not to disturb Gerard, who was now leaning into Mikey's embrace, appearing to accept his brother's gentle touches. Ray kept his voice down low as he took in Frank's obvious torment.

“Gerard is not himself, Frankie,” Ray murmured. “You know that.”

Frank did not dare to speak a word. Nothing he said would stop him resembling a selfish bastard, so he merely nodded. 

Ray clutched his shoulder. “He'll get through this. He did last time.”

Frank gave him a brave smile. He wasn't so sure he agreed though. Just how much torture was Gerard supposed to take before he was irreparably broken?

“We need to get him out of here,” Frank replied. “Before we're overrun by Dracs again.”

“Okay,” Ray replied, and then felt in his pocket. “We need to get those cuffs off of him first.”

To Frank's amazement, and utter annoyance, Ray revealed Bert's small metal cutting tool and went to head to Gerard's side. Frank grabbed his arm to stop him, his eyes blazing.

“What the hell are you doing with that?” He snarled.

Mikey looked up sharply. “Is it the best time for explanations, Frank?”

Frank glared daggers. “When it involves that fucking traitor, yes.”

Ray frowned. He narrowed his eyes as he regarded Frank with something akin to dislike. “We saw Bert at that temporary base where we went to grab some supplies. There were other rebels there too, four kids. They'd escaped the town, but had lost everything. They'd assisted Bert and then they did the same for us. Nice people.”

Frank glowered. “And Bert just happened to give you his tools?”

Ray bristled. “Yes, actually.”

The smaller man chuckled scornfully. “Very convenient.”

Ray pushed past Frank then, and moved to Mikey, handing him the tool. He then turned once more to the fuming Frank.

“Let it go,” he warned him. “Bert's not here now, is he? He's not hurting us. So, why don't you lay off of him before you start to sound completely fucking obsessed?”

“And I suppose you don't think that it's a funny coincidence that the two of you see Bert, and then Korse shows up here?” Frank retorted, incredulously.

“How the fuck would Bert know we were here in the first place, Frank? Nobody knew but us!”

Mikey coughed, interrupting them, unimpressed by Frank and Ray's disagreement. “Will you two both shut the hell up?” Within seconds, he had freed his brother, having placed the tool on full power, exactly how Bert had showed him. Gerard rubbed at his wrists, trying to get the blood circulating once more, and then reached out to grasp Ray's Killjoy jacket, and pulled it into his lap, playing with the sewn on badges.

Ray shot Frank a filthy look, and then walked quickly back over to the brothers. Still annoyed with the younger Killjoy, he snapped, a little too loudly; “We have to leave now, guys.”

Gerard had never been particularly jumpy before, not even after Korse's first attack. Despite that, Ray should have known better. He should have given some warning before so suddenly increasing the volume. _Gerard is not himself_. Ray's own words to Frank. He didn't recognise this frightened and nervous man, or how, this time, they were going to find Gerard again. It wasn't even anything dramatic. Gerard merely stammered a faint breath devoid of actual syllables, and then hastened to look at his hands as he twisted them up in Ray's jacket, clinging on to the garment as if his life depended on it.

Ray shut his eyes for a moment in self-recrimination, and then looked apologetically at Mikey, who then laid a hand on Gerard's shoulder. Gerard flinched violently, hard enough to shake Mikey's hand off, and then he went right back to worrying the fabric between his fingers. 

Ray approached cautiously, and then knelt down beside Gerard, his voice low once more. "Gee... God, I'm so sorry. We just…I don't know how to deal with this. I'm… _trying_."

Gerard nodded hurriedly, though he didn't reply.

Ray stood again, and when he regarded Frank once more, his anger had subsided.

“I shouldn't have snapped,” he told him. “I know you’re worried.”

Frank looked down. “Me too.”

Mikey shook his head, getting to his feet with a sigh. “Look, you guys. This isn't helping, us all going round and round in circles. We do have to get out of here though. Right now.” He stooped then, offering his hand to Gerard. His brother merely gazed up at him. He was clearly exhausted but it would only be a matter of time before they would be swamped by their enemies. They had to move, whether Gerard wanted to or not.

“I know you’re tired, Gee-” Mikey began but Gerard cut across him.

“Tired, Mikey? He whispered, his voice raspy. “I'm finished. Done with this.”

Ray frowned. "You're not, Gee." 

"He made me sing, guys;" Gerard whimpered, apparently not hearing Ray. "He actually made me sing."

They exchanged glances, each of them realising what Gerard's words meant. Ray noticed Mikey was now trembling just like his brother, so he decided to take charge.

He manhandled Gerard firmly, dragging him to his feet, ignoring the whimpers and small resistance the red head offered. He then rubbed the dust off of the older man's back, and then pulled him into an awkward hug. This time, Gerard didn't pull away. Ray stepped back then, holding his own jacket, which he had managed to regain from the older man, and with a small nod to Gerard, he looked again toward Mikey and Frank.

"I, um," Gerard stumbled over his words, looking down at the ground. "I need to wash it off, Ray."

Ray nodded grimly. "We have plenty of water supplies outside, Gee. You can use that."

There was an embarrassed silence, before Ray spoke again, with authority.

“Lets go,” he instructed, and jerked his head toward the door.

Mikey moved towards the door at once, not wanting Gerard to see the look of utter hopelessness that was now on his face. He hurried off, with Ray following him, pausing by the doorway to wait for Gerard. Frank swallowed, and then took a step towards his boyfriend, but was dismayed to see Gerard jump away from him as if Frank had made to attack him.

Frank stared at Gerard incredulously. He didn't know what to say or do. All he knew was that Gerard's reactions to him, even his fear of him, was breaking the younger man's heart.

And he didn't know how to fix it.

“Come on Gee,” Ray said, quietly. He didn't look at Frank. Gerard did as he was told, moving carefully, once more limping on his broken ankle. Frank watched him go, his depression growing with every pitiful move Gerard made. 

XXX

Bert was leaning against a wall with his head pressed back and his eyes closed. He ignored the sounds of the other rebels moving around him, trying to clear his head. His own headaches had begun to return with a vengeance, something he hadn't been plagued with for so long, and the constant aching was becoming intolerable for him. He needed more drugs. He would demand more drugs. It was the least the bastards could do for him.

He flickered open his eyes and took in the sight of the four young rebels, busying themselves, preparing to leave. Since Mikey and Ray had left, the kids had all come to the conclusion that they wanted to help the Killjoys, especially their “hero” Party Poison, to reach the Zone Base. Their excitement levels had reached fever pitch when they realized they would also see, maybe even possibly meet, the infamous Doctor Death Defying. They had been listening to his broadcasts for years, following the adventures of the famous Killjoys, and now they were eager to be in an adventure of their own. Bert, with some regret, had agreed. These were just kids, Bert had not intended to harm them in any way. They had not wronged him, after all. But now they had involved themselves in “the plan,” therefore signing their own death warrants. They had left him no choice.

He called over to the nearest rebel. She liked to be known as 'Cyanide Dust', her own tribute to the Killjoys. He told her that he was going out for some air, and to check everything was calm. She had nodded her understanding, tossing back her stunning blond hair, and had given him a huge grin. Bert had smiled appreciatively back, and had then sauntered out, pulling a smoke out of his jacket pocket.

As soon as he was outside, he lit the cigarette, and then hovered out of sight, staring into the blackness. The rebels had been in awe when he had arrived, asking to rest in their refuge for a short while, just until he had planned his next move. They had been distrustful to begin with, quite rightly so, but then one had recognised him from the old days. His old band name had even been uttered. Bert had felt as though he had been stunned. He had simply assumed that he had been forgotten in the passage of time. The young man had laughed, told him not a chance in hell, and then had chattered excitedly about his love of The Used, and other such bands from “before the bombs fell.” Of course, the conversation had eventually turned to those three little words, _My Chemical Romance,_ and all the kids’ eyes had lit up at the mention. They all knew that name. Of course they did. And once Ray and Mikey had arrived, asking for supplies, the kids had been beside themselves and had happily given whatever the Killjoys had asked for. Bert had handed Mikey his tools, including the metal compressor and had garnered some information from them in return, including the very interesting revelation that all had not been ideal between Gerard and Frank. That had been music to Bert's ears. Perhaps he hadn't completely failed after all.

At that moment, he saw the quick flash of a blue light in the distance, and with one nervous glance over his shoulder to ensure no one had seen, he then moved carefully toward the light, disappearing behind a large wall. He was not surprised to find Exterminator Korse waiting for him, and looking decidedly annoyed.

He had been expecting this. Since Control had indicated to him that Korse was on his way. Bert inclined his head politely, but felt his heart sinking when Korse glowered at him in response. 

“Exterminator,” Bert greeted him quietly.

Korse raised a hand, halting him in his tracks. “There is not time for pleasantries;” He growled back. “The plan is progressing, and you skulking around here like a rat in a sewer is not helping matters.”

Bert glared. “I was banished.” He retorted. “What other choice did I have? I've stayed close by-”

“Silence!” Korse snarled, and Bert stopped talking abruptly, eyeing the other man wearily. “The fact that Way banished you at all is very disappointing. Those drugs we supplied you with should have meant he was completely dependant on you by now. Having you leave his side for an instant should have been too much for him. You underestimated Gerard Way, McCracken, and you underestimated his feelings for Iero.”

Bert flushed at that. “Fair enough,” he spat. “I misjudged their relationship. That I can accept.” He leaned closer. “But I can still put things right.”

Korse raised an eyebrow. “My encounter with Way tonight would certainly have aided you in your efforts to get close to him again. We need him to trust you, McCracken. Meet up with the Killjoys again. See that they all trust you, and push Frank Iero even more out into the cold.” A cruel smile appeared on Korse's lips. “Once Gerard has given himself to you, and realizes the full truth of Iero's betrayal, then the little black haired bastard's fall from grace will be complete.”

There was hatred in Korse's tone. Bert knew why. Frank had fucking killed the guy. Korse wanted revenge. Pure and simple.

Bert nodded his agreement. “Yes sir. I will return tonight.” The former Used front man stuck his hands in his pockets, and nudged at a small bit of dirt with his boot. “Sir, I'm sorry to have to make this request-”.

“Spit it out, McCracken, I am a busy man.”

Bert squirmed. “My headaches have been returning since this -”.

“Ah,” Korse noted. “And you want a fresh supply of pain relievers?”

Bert nodded. “Yes Sir,” and then, as an afterthought, added; “Please.”

The Exterminator flashed him a cruel smile. “We don't have a never ending supply for you, McCracken. Remember that.” He dug deep into his coat pocket, pulled out a small tub, and threw it to Bert. The other man caught it, and then let out a breath he didn't even realize he was holding.

Korse smirked. “Very well then, McCracken, if there is nothing else, we both have work to do tonight.” He looked toward the wrecked building that had once been a school hall but was now a “secret” rebel refuge, and jerked his head. “Tell me first though, are there any rebels here?”

Bert flinched. He didn't really know why. He hesitated for a second, before replying; “Yes.”

A vicious smile spread across Korse's lips. “Then you know what to do. No loose ends, Robert.”

The other man blinked. “Yes sir.” He answered.

Korse nodded. “Once Iero is out of the way, report back. I will then give you further orders. Don't fail me again, Bert.” And with that, he touched a device on his wrist. The darkness was suddenly lit up by a brilliant blue light that was blinding to Bert for 2 seconds and then as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone.

Bert stood perfectly still for a few beats, trying to catch his breath. He knew what he had to do. He had no choice. And he had known what fate lay in store for these kids the moment they had decided to get involved. This was not his fault. He was a soldier, an operative. He was simply following orders.

Feeling inside his jacket, he pulled out his ray gun, and then walked back inside, his face set, his heart as cold and empty as a stone. He had been trained for this. 

He didn't feel anything as he blasted each rebel one after another, Cyanide Dust screaming his name as she died, and eaving four kids, the eldest no older than seventeen, lying dead on the floor before him. They had never stood a chance, believing they could trust him completely. He was one of their “heroes,” after all.

He sighed. They should have chosen their heroes more wisely.

He blocked out all emotions, refusing to even think about the lives he had just taken so coldly and without remorse. It was done. There was no point in dwelling on it.

He had to keep going, there was no time for regrets or useless emotions.

He had work to do.

He turned around and walked from the room, heading towards where he had parked his motorbike, already plotting how he could worm his way back into Gerard's good books. Thank to Korse, all the hard work had already been done.

And as for the four children who had offered him help and their company so readily, he didn't even given them a second thought.

XXX

Frank walked up to his boyfriend hesitantly, eyeing him nervously. Gerard was looking away from Frank, stood with his back to the other man.

“Gerard?” Frank muttered. “We need to talk.”

Gerard frowned. “Do we?” He didn't turn around.

Frank sighed.

The Killjoys car journey had been horrible. The atmosphere was cold and distant. Gerard, upon reaching the car having washed, as he had called it; "All the filth away," had declared that he felt “absolutely fine,” and was happy to drive. So, they had all slipped into the car and, before setting off, Gerard had announced that they would no longer be using real names. They were to go back to using Killjoy names only. He had then started the car and set off, his face devoid of emotion. Since then, no one had spoken. Gerard was ignoring everybody, even Mikey. He had just stared stonily ahead, his eyes locked on the road. Then, without warning, he had swung the car over to the side of the road, declaring he needed a breather.

Ray and Mikey had exited the car quickly, apparently deciding that it was best to leave the lovers on their own, to see if there was any chance that they could talk, or fight, their way through this. Frank couldn't blame them. 

He had never felt so _frightened_ of Gerard.

He tried again.

“How are you feeling, Party?”

Gerard said nothing.

“He didn't use any new drugs on you, did he?”

Again, he got no response. He felt the familiar fury coursing through him. “ _Gerard,_ look at me and stop being so fucking _rude!_ ”

All he could hear was his own breathing. Frank stood, his hands on his hips, watching Gerard.

Finally, his patience was rewarded and Gerard turned to regard the other man. His expression was unreadable.

“I told you, Killjoy names only.”

Frank flushed. “Whatever you say.”

Gerard seemed to hesitate before speaking again. “How did he know?” His words were so quiet, Frank had to strain to hear him.

Frank blinked. “Sorry?” 

A cold look spread across Gerard's face. “Korse knew about recent conversations you and I had, private conversations.” He balled his hands into fists. “How could he have known?”

Frank had no idea. He paused, before replying; “Bert must have heard us, and then reported back.”

Gerard didn't react, except for widening his eyes. “The conversation that Korse quoted to me was just before,” he steeled himself before continuing, “Before Lindsey came back. Bert never left Mikey or Ray while you and I were gone. I asked them before I asked you.”

Frank stared at Gerard, searching his face, trying to see what Gerard was thinking, and what he was actually accusing Frank of. Gerard was giving nothing away.

He stepped closer. “So, how did Korse know what was said during our private conversations, Ghoul?” 

Frank opened his mouth, but had to close it again. He had no answer to give. 

Gerard waited, and then when no answer was forthcoming, he sighed. “I see.”

Frank eyed Gerard nervously. Dread filled him.

“Gee,” he tried, “Please listen to me.”

Gerard gave Frank a distrustful look, shook his head, and then, despite Frank's pleas, he walked away, not bothering to look back. Mikey and Ray, who were stood together, watched him go.

“Gerard?” Mikey called, but his brother didn't even break step.

The younger Way then looked accusingly at Frank. “What-” he began, but Frank just waved a defeated hand at him, and then moved away, his head bowed, his body language hopeless.

The blond man waved both his hands in the air theatrically and then slammed himself back against the wall, no longer able to contain his emotions. 

“Great!” He exclaimed, sarcastically. “Just fucking great.” 

He knew he had no right to break down. He wasn't the one being targeted by Better Living and their insane commander. He wanted to be strong for Gerard, and he knew his brother needed him to keep it together for all of them, but seeing his brother in pieces again, seeing what that bastard had done, once again, was too much for Mikey. He slipped to the ground, banging his head furiously against the bricks behind him, uncaring how much damage he did.

“Mikey!” A fearful voice suddenly spoke up. “Stop!”

Mikey opened his eyes and looked up to find Ray gazing down at him, his expression a mixture of worry and sympathy. Mikey had even forgotten Ray had been with him, so lost in his devastation. The older man knelt down beside him, placing a comforting hand on his knee.

“Hurting yourself isn't going to help anyone, Mikes.”

The youngest Way brother let out a loud sigh. “What difference does it make?” He retorted. “None of us are any help to Gerard, are we? All we can do is sit and wait for that fucker to come for him again-”

“Don't talk like that,” Ray interjected. “We can keep Gerard safe-”.

“HOW?” Mikey shouted, which startled Ray and made him look over his shoulder sharply. His tone was harsher when he replied.

“Keep your voice down,” he hissed. “You need to calm down. Gerard is here, he's alive and he's with us. Korse hasn't won a fucking thing.”

Mikey covered his face with his hands. Ray was right, he knew. His freaking out was immature and pointless. He needed to be with his brother, reassuring him, protecting him. Not hiding from him, whimpering and falling apart like a fucking wimp. He was Kobra Kid. No. He was Mikey Fucking Way, and he was better than this.

He stood up slowly, wiping his wet face clean with the back of his hands. Mikey fixed Ray with a steely glare. He was still haunted by images of what Korse had done to his brother, not just that day, but also in that store. And no matter how much the others told him he was foolish, no matter how many times Gerard himself told Mikey it wasn't his fault, Mikey still blamed himself for not staying with Gerard on that fateful day.

How could he have left him? Grace or not, Gerard should had been his first priority. They looked after each other - that was the way it had always been. Up until that horrible moment. And look at what that moment had cost them all.

Ray, apparently, could read his mind.

“You have to stop blaming yourself, Mikes,” he told him softly. “No one else holds you responsible. Stop hating yourself.”

Mikey bit down on to his lower lip.

“I ran.” He stated firmly. “I left him there.”

“Because he told you to.” 

“I should _never_ have listened to him.”

“You were right to think about Grace-”

“Fuck Grace!”

They both stopped talking, breathing hard. Ray was staring at Mikey, stunned. Mikey, for his part, was horrified at his own words.

“I didn't mean that,” he whispered, agonising.

“I know,” Ray answered, reaching out to take Mikey's hand.

“I love Grace,” Mikey moaned. “You know I do.”

Ray nodded. “It's okay, baby. It's okay.”

“Do you know?” Mikey said, no longer able to prevent the tears from falling. “Just before I left him there, he called me Mikey. That was the first time he'd called me by my name for years. He wasn't Party Poison in that second, Ray. And I wasn't Kobra Kid. He was Gerard and I was Mikey and I was abandoning him...” He broke off, unable to continue.

Ray had to fight to keep his own tears at bay. No wonder Mikey had been so distraught since that day. The guilt he'd been carrying, the pain, it must have been eating him up inside.

“What are we gonna do?” Mikey asked, in a tiny voice.

“We're gonna stay together,” Ray replied firmly. “And we're gonna keep Gerard safe.”

“How?”

Ray grimaced. How was he going to snap Mikey out of this? “We can stop Korse, baby...”

Mikey turned and stared at Ray, his eyes wide with fury. “What the fuck are you talking about, Toro? Frank _already killed_ him, but he came back, in case you've forgotten! He's never gonna give up, never gonna let him go. This has gone beyond Better Living Industries hunting down “the Killjoys,” this isn't about us being outlaws now. Korse is obsessed with Gerard. You heard what Gee said; he made him _sing,_ Ray. He knows everything about him.” His voice rose an octave as his anger and helplessness grew with every word. “This has nothing to do with Party Poison any more, this is all about Gerard, and the man he _used_ to be. Korse wants Gerard, Ray, and he's not going to stop until he has him, body and soul. He _will_ take him away from us, away from me, and all we can do is sit and watch. We're gonna lose him.”

“Mikey-”

“Just, don't, Ray. Don't stand there and lie to me, telling me everything will be “okay.” It won't work, and nothing is every going to be okay. You know as well as I do, Gerard is already as good as dead...”

Mikey took a huge, sorrow filled breath, unable to say one more word, and turned his back on Ray, his hands plunged deeply into his pockets, and his head bowed. Ray gave the younger a man a moment to try and compose himself, and then he placed his hands on Mikey's shoulders, and gently turned him back around to face him. He then gazed at Mikey, waiting for the devastated man to look at him. Finally, Mikey did so, his eyes red and sore.

Ray's heart broke for the millionth time at the agony he saw there.

Not knowing what to say, he pulled Mikey into a tight embrace, holding him firmly, and not letting him go. The comfort seemed to be to much for Mikey who, having been so strong for his brother for so long, finally broke down, his shoulders shaking as he sobbed into Ray's strong arms. Finally, Ray released Mikey, and they stared at each other. Ray only hesitated for a moment, knowing the two of them were alone and away from prying eyes, before he placed his lips against Mikey's and kissed him passionately. Mikey returned the kiss, his arms now around Ray as the kiss became more passionate.

Neither man seemed to consider pausing for breath, until they both heard a noise from close by. They broke apart, gasping and quickly looked toward the source of the noise, still holding on to each other.

Mikey gasped, Ray swore under his breath.

Gerard was gazing at them, his eyes wide with surprise. He looked as if he was going to speak, but then apparently thought better of it, turned quickly, and ran off in the other direction, as fast as his injured ankle would allow him. He stumbled as he went, falling to his knees, and whimpering. He glanced over his shoulder, his cheeks red, before forcing himself painfully to his feet, and scurrying off once more. 

For a second, Mikey and Ray could only stare after him, horror struck.

Finally, Mikey broke the silence. “Shit,” he stated, unnecessarily. “He saw us.”

Ray shot him a withering look.

“It's not that he _saw_ us that's fucking worrying me, Mikes. It's the fact that he probably _heard_ us!”

They exchanged mortified looks, and then together set off after Gerard, calling for him desperately to stop, and to listen to them. Gerard didn't pause, or look back. He kept going, kept stumbling, and kept forcing his way on. He was only running on pure adrenalin only as he ran deeper into the desert, and as both Ray and Mikey know only too well, it was not safe out there. Especially for Gerard.

“We have to catch him!” Mikey snapped. “Before a Drac scout does!”

“Ray! Mikey! Stop!”

They paused as their names were called, and turned to see Frank just behind them, rushing to catch up with them. “What the hell is going on?” 

He glared at both of their guilty expressions and then looked up, seeing Gerard disappearing across the sand.

“What's Gerard doing?”

Mikey swallowed. “What does it look like?” He spat. “Getting the fuck away from Ray and I.”

“What did you do?”

Neither of them could answer him.

Frank didn't wait another moment.

“GERARD!” He bellowed, setting off after his boyfriend, with Ray and Mikey at his heels. 

They rushed after Gerard, gaining on their weak leader with every stride. Just as they knew they were about to catch him, a sight in the distance suddenly brought them skidding to a stunned stop. A motorcycle was roaring towards them. No, it was not just any motorcycle. It was HIS motorcycle. Frank's face hardened as the rider drew nearer and nearer. The brunette quickly looked toward Gerard and he saw that his boyfriend was now lying on the floor, staring up at the motorbike that was fast approaching him. Finally, the bike halted and then man dismounted, and then began a slow walk towards Gerard. The red head was on the ground, a hand held over his face to protect him as the very recognisable figure approached him cautiously.

Bert pulled off his helmet, placing it under his right arm, and then extended his left arm towards the stricken man, who cringed away from him.

Frank made to rush forward, but Ray grabbed his arm, shaking his head firmly. Frank could only stand there and watch as the man he despised above all others, even Korse, moved ever closer to his trembling lover.

“Gerard?” Bert said, quietly.

Gerard recoiled, tossing his head from side to side, unable to compute this latest development. He had sent Bert away. Bert was gone. 

“It's okay, Gee.” The longhaired man told him comfortingly. “I'm not gonna hurt you.”

Gerard closed his eyes, taking deep breaths. When he opened them again, it was as if he had half expected Bert to disappear.

Bert smiled at him warmly. “Everything’s gonna be fine, buddy.” He whispered. “You're safe now.”

Before Frank could even calculate exactly what was happening, the traitor was grasping his boyfriend's hand, pulling him to his feet and then embracing him like a brother. And Gerard was returning the hug just as buoyantly.

Mikey was beside Gerard then, his hand on his back, softly rubbing. Gerard pulled free of Bert and turned to regard his brother.

“I'm so sorry, Gee.” Mikey said sorrowfully. “I fucked up. I didn't mean any of those stupid things. I don't even know what I said then-”

He was interrupted when Gerard flung himself on to him, just as he had done with Bert, holding him tightly. Mikey held on just as firmly, burying his head in his brother's arms.

When they pulled away, Mikey knew, just like in the old days, that there was no need for words. It had all just been said.

“Let’s get back to the car, and go see the Doc.” Gerard said quietly. Mikey smiled, and Ray all but punched the air.

“Sounds good,” he said.

The three of them walked away together, Mikey still with his arm around Gerard. Frank watched them go. He didn't just feel left out of it- he was out of it. Out of everything. It took him a few moments for him to realise that Bert was also still there, watching him closely.

Frank, doing his best to ignore the hated man, began to walk away.

“How does it feel, Frank?” Bert taunted him softly. “How does it feel to be the one frozen out?”

“The name is Ghoul,” Frank snarled.

Bert chuckled. “I guess it's all over for you.”

 _'Ignore him,'_ Frank told himself. _'Take no notice. He's trying to wind you up. Don't rise to it.'_

But Bert was not letting up. “Gerard will never trust you again, you know that? It's okay though. He can always fall into my arms. I'd be happy to catch him.”

Frank was trembling. It was taking every ounce of self-control for him to not turn around and beat the bastard to death.

Bert grabbed his hair then, stopping his progress, and pulling his head back. Frank gasped in pain, looking desperately at his three friends who were standing by the Trans AM, all too concerned with each other to spare a thought for their missing fourth member.

Frank flinched, as Bert rubbed at his crotch through his clothes forcefully, and then slurred triumphantly in his ear:

“I'm going to fuck your boyfriend senseless, Iero.”

That was too much for Frank. With a furious cry, he wrestled free of Bert's hold, and then grabbed at the other man and began to punch the shit out of him. Bert was yelling and hitting back, trying to get a strong grip on Frank's throat in an effort of throttling him.

Suddenly, both men were being pulled apart and Gerard was between them, glaring daggers at the pair of them.

“What the fuck is going on?”

Bert pointed furiously at Frank.

“Why don't you ask your fucking boyfriend?”

Frank laughed manically at that. He knew he sounded crazed, but he couldn't help it. He would kill Bert. One way or another, he would see the man dead.

Gerard, meanwhile, was watching Frank with a clear disdain. “Ghoul, what is your fucking problem?” He demanded furiously.

Before Frank could even open his mouth, Bert got in their first.

“He's out of his fucking mind!”

“Just, tell me!” Gerard fumed.

Bert jabbed his finger accusingly at Frank.

“Oh, I'll tell you, Gerard! You're adoring boyfriend attacked me because I saw him taking BL/I drugs. He's got a small bottle of them on him right now. I saw him, he knew I'd seen him, and he tried to shut me up before I could tell you.”

Frank was standing perfectly still, shaking from disbelief and fury. All he could do was stare at Bert in complete shock. Frank had been completely wrong footed and he couldn't take in what the other man was saying. He was accusing Frank of being the traitor. And he was using the pills as evidence.

_'Shit.'_

It all suddenly became so clear to Frank. Bert had been very clever all this time.

And Frank had fallen head first into his carefully set up trap.

“I saw him taking them once before.” Bert was saying; “A few days ago. I didn't want to say anything. I assumed there would be a innocent explanation. But I don't see one now.”

Frank wanted to vomit. It was as if the ground had been pulled away and he was falling into the abyss. He looked from one Killjoy to the next, pleading with his eyes, begging them to believe him, to know him, and accept the truth.

But he had lied to them. And _that_ was the simple truth. 

Ray and Mikey were staring at Frank, horrified.

Gerard walked directly up to his boyfriend, and looked him straight in the eye.

“Tell me this isn't true,” Gerard snapped. “Fucking look at me!”

Frank had nothing to say. He couldn't even look at Gerard. What defence could he use? So, he stayed quiet.

His silence spoke volumes.

Gerard rushed straight up to Frank, grabbing his Killjoy jacket, and pulling it off of him angrily. He searched all of the pockets quickly, and soon found what he was looking for. He looked down at the small bottle, clearly showing the BL/I logo as if he couldn't believe his eyes, and then those flaming hazel eyes met Frank's.

“What's this, Ghoul?” He whispered.

Frank didn't respond. His insides were churning.

Gerard held up the small bottle, clearly only just managing to contain his anger.

“You gonna tell me what the fuck these are, _Frank?_ ”

Frank's world fell away. He closed his eyes, trying to think through the pain, and then answered, as calmly as he could.

“The headaches, the pills helped them. I'd be mad by now if it wasn't for them. Or dead.”

Gerard glared. “How long have you been taking them for?”

“A few days.”

“And why the FUCK didn't you tell me?”

“I thought the headaches would just go away,” Frank whimpered. “I didn't think they'd get worse. Gerard. Please. You know I would never betray any of you. You guys are my family.”

Gerard scoffed at his words. “Everything Korse knew about us, about me, he found out from you, didn't he?”

Bert stepped forward. “I've seen this before. Korse marked him, I'd imagine. They've been following you everywhere, and listening in to every conversation.”

Gerard swore loudly. “When?” He snapped. “When were you marked?”

Frank looked down. “When I thought I'd killed Korse, he used the dart shooter on me. It must have been then.”

Gerard took a step forward. “You never thought to share this?”

Frank swallowed hard. “I was scared.”

“And where did you get the pills from?” Mikey demanded. “You said they helped the pains. Who gave them to you?”

Frank hesitated. He looked at Bert and felt sick when he saw the other man was smiling.

What choice did he have now? He had made the mistake of not being honest in the first place.

“Bert.” He replied, in his tiniest voice.

Bert laughed out loud. Ray and Mikey exchanged disbelieving glances. Gerard snorted, though didn't look at Frank.

“Please Gee,” Frank pleaded with his boyfriend. “Say something.”

A beat passed as Gerard stared at the ground at Frank's feet. Finally, his gaze locked with Frank's. Frank shivered at what he saw there.

Nothing. They were cold and empty. 

“Get out of here, Iero.”

Ray and Mikey stared at Gerard. Bert glanced at the red head and then trained his gaze on Frank, a hint of a smirk on his lips.

They were all shocked. None of them had expected this.

Gerard, though, was deadly serious. His hands balled into fists as his sides.

“Didn't you fucking hear me?” He growled.

“W-what?” Frank stammered. He couldn't have heard right. Gerard was his world. He wouldn't send him away. He wouldn't.

“While you're with us, they can spy on us constantly. So, I need you gone.” He moved forward then, grabbing Frank and pulling him close, spitting his words at him. “You lied to me. You tried to turn me against Bert when all the time, you were sending messages back to Korse. Whether you knew about it or not, you allowed it to happen. You should have told me about the headaches, about the tracker. You didn't.”

Frank felt sick. “I didn't know,” he managed. “Please, Gerard. You have to believe me.”

“I don't have to believe shit,” came the nasty reply. “You're still lying, making out Bert gave you those pills-”

“He did!” Frank was desperate. 

Gerard struck him hard across the face. Due to the force of the suffering his headache was already causing him, Frank went down from the blow. Only Mikey holding Gerard back prevented the furious man from continuing the beating. There was a wild look in Gerard's eyes now. “Just shut the fuck up. I don't want to hear it. All I want is for you to go. You're not a part of this band any more-”.

They all stared at Gerard. He corrected himself at once.

“Group, I mean. You're not in this team any more. Just get out of my fucking sight! Now.”

Frank didn't move. Gerard gave him a look of such hatred that it sent shivers down Frank's spine. The red head then took a step towards him. “I'm giving you five seconds to get the hell away from me, Iero.”

Still, Frank didn't react. Where was he supposed to go? His place was with the three of them. With Gerard.

“Fine,” Gerard snarled. He glanced at Bert. “Pass me your gun, Bert. I left mine in the car, as he fucking knows.” Bert shrugged, then pulled out his blaster, and gave it to Gerard. There was an air of expectation about Bert now. He clearly couldn't wait to see how this would end.

Gerard, with no hint of emotion, raised the gun and pointed it straight at Frank's heart.

“If you don't fuck off, I'll make you. You fucking traitor.”

Frank couldn't believe this was real. This was a dream. It had to be. This simply was not happening. 

Gerard would never shoot him. He loved him. 

Gerard's finger covered the trigger.

Mikey stood between them at once. “Gee,” he said, as calmly as he could muster. “You can't send Frank out into the desert alone, with no transport or supplies. He'll die.”

Gerard visibly trembled with anger. “And?”

Ray stood beside Mikey. “You, rightly, gave Bert the benefit of the doubt. Do the same for Frank. We don't know he was knowingly betraying us. This is _Frank_ we're talking about, Gerard.”

Gerard stood for a moment, breathing hard, thinking it over. He glanced at Frank for a second, who was staring at him desperately. Finally, Gerard spoke again.

“Fucking have it your way then. He can stay with us until we get to the base. But then, he's out. And if you two can't accept it, you can go with him. Understand me?”

Mikey and Ray both looked devastated, but they nodded in agreement. 

Gerard looked over at Frank again. “He had better keep the fuck away from me;” Gerard stated loudly. Then, he rounded on Frank again, getting right in his face.

“Were you under his control when you made me fuck you? Was he listening? Was he laughing at me?”

Frank couldn't speak. He was aghast.

Then, Gerard spun round, grimacing in pain, and then limped away.

Frank let out a low sob. It was ignored.

Frank watched him go for a second, as if frozen in time. Then, the constant dull pain of his headaches brought him back to painful reality and he staggered awkwardly to his feet. Ray stepped forward and offered his hand, which, after a moment's hesitation, Frank took. Then, nervously, he called after Gerard.

Gerard didn't respond. Frank tried again. “Gerard, I-”

Ray held up his hand. “Just let him go, Frank. He needs time.”

Frank's cheeks burned. How could he tell Ray that he wanted the pills? How could he tell them that he knew that, within seconds, the pain would become intolerable? 

He took an unsteady step forward.

“Ray, you don't understand. I need-”

“You need to leave this alone-”

He cried out then, in pure frustration, “Just get the fuck out of my way!”

Ray stared at him open mouthed. Then, his eyes narrowed.

Before he could speak though, Gerard's voice rang out.

“He wants his precious BL/I drugs, Ray. He can't get by without them. Just like any addicted drone, right Frank?”

Frank closed his eyes. He couldn't stand it. He didn't want to see Ray and Mikey's accusing glares.

“Here,” Gerard continued, a cruel mocking to his tone. “Come and get your happy pills, Ghoul.”

Frank reopened his eyes to discover Gerard was stood, holding the pills out in the palm of his left hand. Then, with a look of hate, he dropped the bottle on the ground. Frank didn't have time to feel embarrassed, he knew how the pain would affect him, so he scrambled over to where Gerard had dropped the pills, reached out, and scooped them up.

There was silence all around. No one spoke.

Slowly, Frank raised his head and looked up at Gerard. He knew he had reached total degradation. 

Gerard stared back at the man he had taken as his lover, looking utterly disgusted.

Frank burned with shame.

“Please, Gee;” He stuttered. 

Gerard didn't speak. He had nothing to say. He gazed down at Frank, his expression sickened. He swung round quickly and set off, not looking back. Frank went to call after him but knew it was pointless. Gerard wouldn't listen to him. 

He'd never forgive him.

Frank looked desperately toward Ray and Mikey, but his fellow Killjoys could only stare back. Ray at least looked sympathetic, where as Mikey was simply shaking his head, with some disbelief. After a beat, they too, took their leave, hurrying after Gerard, neither of them wanting to spare their devastated former friend one more glance.

Frank wanted to go after them, to plead his case, make them believe him, but he couldn't even stand. What would be the point, even if he could? They were never going to take his word over Bert's now.

With a look of hatred, Frank glared up at Bert, who was smiling down at brunette, triumphant. He was clearly revelling in the defeated man's distress.

“I win, Frankie.” He hissed. “You and Gerard are finished.”

Frank shook his head, and whimpered.

Bert crouched down, placing a hand on Frank's back. To any one looking on, he could well have been comforting the other man. He leaned closer, so that his lips were touching Frank's ear.

“He's mine now.”

Frank could only moan “ _no_ ,” in response.

Smirking, Bert straightened, and then turned his back on the stricken man and walked away, a swagger in his stride. Frank could only watch him, feeling helpless as he slipped two pills into his mouth with a shaky hand.

The headache would fade, but why did that matter now, anyway?

He tried to stand but couldn't, he was still too weak. Unable to hold the pain in any longer, Frank covered his face with his hands, and began to sob, not caring who saw him breaking down.

Frank knew, to his complete dismay, that Bert was right. 

He had lost everything.

TBC


	20. Chapter 20

The Trans Am roared through the desert, all four Killjoys once more in their familiar seats, Bert following closely behind them on his motor bike. Gerard was once again driving, his mask placed over his face, but the others knew that this was a way for him to hide his emotions from them, as much as he was hiding his face from the enemy. Frank sat in the back, constantly glancing up, hoping to catch his leader's gaze in the rear view mirror. Gerard didn't look at him once. Ray sat beside Frank, while Mikey was in the front passenger seat. Their discomfort at the atmosphere was obvious, both of them choosing to remain silent too. Finally, unable to stand it any longer, Mikey looked over his shoulder to Frank.

“Frankie, how are your head aches?”

Before Frank could even get over his surprise that Mikey had actually spoken, _and to him,_ Gerard's cutting voice spoke up, his tone cold.

“Shut it, Mikey.”

Mikey flushed, his cheeks turning pink.

“I was only asking-”

Gerard slammed his fist down on the steering wheel. “Weren't you listening earlier, Kobra? We have no way of telling who's listening in. _So shut the fuck up!_ ”

His brother glared daggers, balled his hands into fists, and then looked out of the window. Frank was squirming. He knew only to well that Gerard was digging at him. He knew how angry Gerard was and, of course, he understood why. Frank had placed them all in deadly danger by keeping his head aches, and the cause of them, a secret from his comrades but they had to realise he did it out of fear, didn't they? Gerard would know that Frank would never betray him or do anything to hurt him. 

He knew that, deep down. He had to.

Gerard was just angry. He'd figure out the truth. He would.

Suddenly, Gerard swerved the car to the side of the road, the tyres screeching to a halt, and instantly the car was surrounded by the thick dust from the sand. Gerard didn't offer any explanations, he simply pulled open the door and climbed out. He nodded to Ray, watching him with some confusion, and he muttered; “All of you need to stay here.” He slammed the door behind him, and then walked forward a few feet. He leaned against the front of the car, and then, he waited.

The others stayed where they were, automatically obeying their leader. Frank placed his head against the window and closed his eyes. The slight dull ache was slowly returning to torment him once more, and he moved his hand subconsciously to his pocket. He paused however when he flickered open his eyes and saw that Mikey was once more watching him, a slight frown crossing his features.

Frank blushed, then stopped, dropping his hand, and letting out a quiet sigh.

Mikey cleared his throat. “If you need to take a pill, Frankie, then take one. It's okay.”

At his words, Ray also looked over at Frank. “You alright?” He asked, softly. 

Frank couldn't help but feel irritated at their words. This was all too little, too late. He scowled as he regarded both of his fellow Killjoys. “It's a shame you couldn't both had been more supportive when Gerard and Bert were attacking me.” He muttered. “Easy to be kind now both their backs are turned, isn't it? You're both fucking hypocrites, you know that?”

Mikey winced, and then shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He exchanged a glance with Ray, who then leaned in toward the younger man, actually attempting to put his arm around Frank.

“Look, Frankie-”

“Save it,” Frank snapped, shoving his arm away. “Right now, I'm not interested.” He looked out of the windscreen again, his gaze locked on Gerard, and he grimaced as he watched Bert sauntering up to join him, motorcycle helmet under his arm. “The only person I fucking care about at this moment won't even look at me, let alone listen to me; so I'm expected to sit here and watch as the real traitor just worms his way in, and takes my place. So, no, Ray. I don't want to hear what you fucking have to say. I don't fucking care. Do you get it _now_?”

Ray stared at Frank, apparently unable to form words. Mikey, who looked on in dismay, was finding equally as hard to come back with a suitable retort. Perhaps because they both knew, there wasn't one. Frank was right. They had let him down badly. So they both remained silent, gazing ahead.

Finally, Ray broke the silence.

“Somebody's coming,” he announced. “I can just make them out, through the dust.”

Frank blinked. He could see the newcomer's outline too, and they were getting closer. His hand moved to his ray gun, and as i did so, it once again crossed his mind that he had been allowed the keep his gun. There was no way Gerard would have been guilty of such an oversight, so this was the only smedgen of hope that Frank had that he hadn't completely lost his boyfriend's trust, and he was was clinging to it. Just as his fingers felt the butt, however, Mikey piped up.

“Shit, wait, Frank! It's fine! It's Show Pony!”

Sure enough, their friend was moving towards towards Gerard, skating to a halt right in front of him. Pony then grabbed Gerard roughly by his jacket and forced him back, until he was pinned against the hood of the Trans. Bert went to grab for Pony but was told to stay where he was by Gerard. Mikey swore, threw open the door and leapt out of the car, only to be brought to an abrupt halt, just like Bert, by an angry shout from his brother. Pony waited for silence, and then leaned closer to Gerard, and growled into his ear.

“Password?”

At that moment, it suddenly dawned on the Killjoys that they were surrounded. More rebels had crept up on them, and now there had to be a dozen ray guns pointing at them all, from every direction. Mikey strained his eyes to try and see their fellow rebels through the dust and swirling mist, but it was impossible. These people had been trained to keep out of sight, to be stealthy and creep up on Draculoids and Scarecrows, blowing theie enemies away before they had even realised that they were there. That was what had kept them all alive, safe from the Exterminators constantly hunting them down, and picking them off, one by one. 

And, of course, the fact that they could trust no one.

Not even their own.

Mikey's gaze once again fell on Gerard and Pony, and the younger Way wished that he could go to his brother's aid, but he understood why Gerard needed him, and the others, to keep back. All of this was necessary, to keep the rebels and the location of their base, safe. But that didn't stop Mikey from noticing Gerard's panic and fear, and he wanted nothing more than to force Show Pony away from him. And, as he looked back into the car, it was clear Ray and Frank felt the same way. But, they also stayed where they were.

Show Pony, annoyed by Party Poison's delay in responding, raised his gun until it was pointing directly at Gerard's face. 

“Answer me!”

Gerard didn't flinch. He spoke up, calmly and clearly.

“Jazz hands.” 

There was a beat, and then Show Pony lowered his gun, laughed, and pulled Gerard into a tight embrace. “Sorry about that. You know how it is.” He dusted Gerard's jacket down. “It's good to see you again, Party.”

Gerard returned the greeting, clasping Pony's shoulder. “You too, buddy.” Pony then offered his hand to Bert, who took it. Gerard watched them for a second, and then, when Pony returned his attention to him, Gerard nodded to his fellow killjoys. “Is it okay for us to follow you to the base?”

Pony jerked his head in understanding. “Course, I'll go on ahead, its not far. All these guys, they volunteered to escort you, but I'm thinking they really just wanted to _see_ you. We've all been waiting a while for you jerks to find your way here. Took you long enough.”

Gerard winced, glancing away. After a moment, he looked up again. “We had some problems,” was all he could manage. 

Pony nodded. “Yeah,” he replied; “Well, let's get moving, shall we? The Doc's waitin'.” He paused then, his tone suddenly more playful. “And there's a certain little girl who has been dying to see you punks again.”

The red head smiled. “Grace.”

Pony waved to the rebels and they all lowered their weapons, and then stood together, whispering and pointing at Gerard. He was unnerved by their behaviour, and turned away. He knew they meant no harm, but it didn't stop him wondering. What were they saying about him? Did they know the truth? 

Pony was ready to go. “Right, get back in your sad little wheels then, Gee-Man. I'll skate on ahead, the others will hang back to escort you. Sorry about all of this, we've had to up the security so much lately.”

Gerard shook hands with his friend, indicated to Bert to get to his bike and follow. Bert shrugged, moving to do as he was told. As the former singer walked by, his eyes met Frank’s and he couldn't resist a smirk. Frank merely stared back. What could he do? Gerard would never listen to him, or believe him over Bert, so what was the point? Better to keep quiet and carry on. 

The red head slid back into his front seat, and slammed the door closed. He waved to Pony, and the other man set off. Gerard started the car and moved forward, keeping a small distance behind their guide. 

Ray cleared his throat.

“Where are we gonna-”

“Not now, Ray,” Gerard snapped. “Stay quiet. We can't talk about anything until we know no fuckers are listening in.”

Ray frowned, but nodded his agreement. 

Frank felt a chill run through him, and then he suddenly had a maddening urge to close his eyes. Just in case those “fuckers” could see what he could, as well as hear him.

Gerard saw this in his mirror. He frowned, his stare locked on Frank.

Show Pony led them to the base, what had once been a services, and gestured for them to park. Gerard swung the car round, stopped, and told everyone to get out. Ray and Mikey did as they were told, rushed to Show Pony and hugged him. Frank watched them, hesitating. He noticed Gerard was hovering close by, still by the car, and he plucked up the courage to speak to him, softly and nervously.

“Does that include me?”

Gerard eye-balled him. “Yeah,” he replied, somewhat coldly. “The Doc might...” He broke off, looking at the ground. “Maybe we can get you some help.”

And then Gerard was away, calling for the others to move on ahead. They did so, and Gerard followed, not looking back. Frank watched him go. There was a tiny spark of something deep inside of him now though, as he climbed out of the Trans and closed the door carefully behind him. Some hope had actually resurfaced.

Mikey and Ray walked on ahead, with Gerard just behind them. Excited chatter from all the rebels who had turned out to watch their heroes arrival filled Frank's ears as he walked, and he tried to block it out. He looked down, not wanting to see any of the suspicious glances being sent his way. He kept going, head down, until he suddenly struck an immovable object and, looking up, he saw Bert, arms crossed over his chest, blocking his path.

“Where are you going?” Bert hissed.

Frank went red. He looked past Bert to Gerard, who had paused, and looked back, clearly unsure. He then glared at Bert. “The Doc will want to see me too.” 

Bert smirked. “I don't think so.”

“Bert,” Gerard called over, though he still wouldn't meet Frank's gaze directly. “It's okay-”

“No, it's not,” Bert replied, loudly, making sure _everyone_ could hear. “He can't be trusted, Gee, and you know it. We don't know who is listening. He can't see the Doc.”

Ray frowned. “Listen, Bert-”

“Gerard,” Bert cut across Ray, his gaze boring into the red head's. “You know I'm right about this.”

Gerard nodded, though somewhat regretfully. He finally glanced at Frank, who was watching him desperately, but he didn't speak to him. Instead, he beckoned for Mikey and Ray to follow. His gaze lingered on Frank for a few seconds longer, before he finally turned tail and hurried after Show Pony, who was clearly confused by what was happening, and looking towards Frank with some surprise. Bert was still standing in front of Frank and now, he was smiling.

“So alone.” He hissed. “Poor little Frankie.”

“Okay, Bert,” Mikey snapped, coming up behind the former Used front man. “We gotta go.”

“Sure,” Bert purred. He smirked. “See you, Frank.”

And then he turned his back on the smaller man, leaving Mikey with Frank.

Mikey placed a hand on Frank's shoulder. Leaning closer, he whispered; “I'm sorry, Frankie.”

Before Frank could reply, that hated voice came again.

“Mikey,” Bert yelled. “Thought we were in a hurry?”

Mikey glared at Bert, and then tightened his grasp on Frank's shoulder. “We'll sort this mess out, Frankie,” he whispered. “I swear.”

And then the younger Way turned and hurried after the others.

Frank stood there, watching his friends leaving him behind. The worst thing was that he knew Bert was quite right, he was completely alone. He could still hear all the whispers from those standing near by, and sense their suspicious looks. He covered his ears, trying to block them all out. But his strange behaviour only increased the noise around him. He could feel his headache worsening. He had to get away.

He bowed his head, knowing he resembled exactly what he was, a defeated man. And then, he quickly walked away.

XXX

There was excited chatter in the meeting room. The Killjoys had filed in, and Grace had been upon Gerard at once, grabbing him and holding him tight. It had taken all of the other Killjoys to prize her away. She had then attached herself to Mikey, squeezing him until it hurt. Gerard had taken that opportunity to go to Doctor Death and to greet him, though uncomfortably, and to apologise to him. Death had informed him that nothing had been his doing, or his fault, and that he was simply grateful to be alive. He quietly told Gerard that, despite everything the red head had been through, should feel happy for that too.

All Gerard could do was nod. He hadn't had many reasons to feel happy recently. 

Defying had then glanced at Bert, something unrecognisable flashing across his face for a second, and then he was addressing the small child, who was bouncing on the spot, trying to describe her latest adventure to a weary Ray.

“Okay, Grace, sweetheart.” Defying told her. “You're gonna need to leave us alone for a little while. We've gotta have a meeting. You can spend time with the guys later.”

Grace frowned, darted to Gerard, and grabbed hold of his arm. “But I don't want too!”

“C'mon baby,” Gerard whispered. “You go with Pony now. We'll come find you when we're done.”

She looked up at him, her red eyes big and wide. “And Frankie?”

Gerard grimaced, giving Mikey a quick look, requesting help.

Mikey read the look, and stroked Grace's fro. “Honey, everything is fine. You leave us to work now, and we'll see you later.”

Grace couldn't help but return Mikey's generous smile.

“Okay,” she told him. She then allowed Show Pony to take her hand. “I'll see you soon.”

“You bet.”

And with that, Pony led Grace from the room, and Ray shut the door behind them.

There was a nervous pause then, before Death spoke up, his eyes locked on Gerard.

“How are you, Gerard?”

“I'm good, Doc.” 

"I was very sorry to hear about Lindsey. She was one in a million".

"Yeah," Gerard replied, quietly. "They'll pay for her death."

Death nodded. "And you? You look like you're healing..."

"I'm getting there." Inwardly, he squirmed. _Healing? How was he supposed to heal?_ He swallowed, before replying. “And what about you? How are you?”

Defying actually smiled warmly at him. “I'm getting by,” he replied. “Like I was saying, I'm lucky to be alive, Poison. And so are you. Remember that?”

Gerard couldn't help but bow his head at that. He couldn't ignore but notice the guilt that was flooding through him. He knew Death Defying was trying his best to relieve him of that guilt. Not that it helped, though.

Defying glanced at Ray and Mikey then.

“So, where is Fun Ghoul?”

There was an uncomfortable silence.

Gerard stepped forward, cleared his throat. “We've had issued, Doc. I'm sorry to say that Frank has been compromised. Bert has taken his place in the Killjoys.”

Death Defying glared from one Killjoy to the next. “What happened?”

Gerard shrugged. He didn't want to go into this now. “It's a long story, Sir, but I can't, we can't, trust him right now. It's best that he stays out of all our private conversations.”

The Doc placed a finger over his own lips thoughtfully. “Where is he now? Is he in the base?”

Gerard nodded. “Yeah, but he'll keep out of the way.” His voice broke, as he added. “If he knows what's good for him.”

Defying narrowed his eyes, and then gestured to Gerard to come closer, which the younger man obeyed. At the broadcaster's direction, Gerard leaned ever nearer so only he could hear the other man's soft words. 

“You actually truly believe that Frank could have betrayed you, Gerard? _Frank??_ ” 

Gerard blinked, and then cast his eyes down to the ground. “I don't know what to think.” He muttered. 

Bert piped up, moving ahead of Gerard, taking control from the red head. “All due respect, Doc, but we don't have time to talk about Frank. You called this meeting for another reason, didn't you?”

Mikey regarded Bert. “You never mentioned, Bert. What happened to those kids?”

Bert blinked. “What?”

“The rebels who helped you, and us, at that refuge. They seemed desperate to meet Gerard and Frank. Why didn't they come with you?”

The other man suddenly seemed stressed. “They told me to go on ahead.”

“Why?”

“I don't know. For fucks sake, Mikey! Does it matter?” 

“Enough! Both of you!” Gerard snapped, wearily. He waved away Bert's angry indignation, and then nodded to Defying. “Doc, go ahead.”

Death, who was giving Bert something of a strange look, leaned to one side in his chair, peering around Bert, and addressing the three Killjoys once more. 

“The people need their heroes, now more than ever. They need someone to look up to, and that is you guys,. The Fabulous Killjoys.” He smiled. “Word has spread far and wide about Korse's death. You have no idea how much hope his defeat has given to everyone, and you are the men that made it happen-”. His words, and his enthusiasm, ebbed away when he saw the uncomfortable glances that the Killjoys were giving to each other.

“What?” Death stated. “Tell me.”

“Korse is still alive.” Gerard replied, quietly. “I'm sorry to say that Frank lied about that too.” 

Death Defying gaped at him, and then shook his head, confused. 

“You are certain of this? We all saw Korse dead, Gerard, not just Frank. You included.”

Gerard frowned. “He's alive,” was all he could say. 

The Doc gave him a grim stare but he didn't push the point any further, despite his clear disgruntlement at his treatment of Fun Ghoul. He would return to this later. Frank was safe and that was what mattered. Right now, he had other pressing issues to deal with.

“Despite the news about Korse, which is a blow, we must move forewards. We have to start building again, which means sending a message to BL/I that we are not beaten, nor will we lie down and let them wreck innocent lives.” He glanced down, a flash of pain on his face for a second, and then it was gone again. He continued, speaking more softly. “What they did to that town, to those people, was inhuman. We have to show them that we will not allow them to get away with atrocities like that any more.” He balled his fist. “My first suggestion is that we should target...

“Go after them,” Gerard interjected, at once. “That's what our first move should be. Hit them hard, and where they least expect it.”

Mikey coughed, and placed a calming hand on his brother's arm, which was hastily shaken off. “Gee,” the younger Way attempted; “An attack on the city is suicide.” 

Gerard gave Mikey an unimpressed look. “Mikes, I'm not gonna spend the rest of my fucking life hiding out in the Zones, waiting for them to keep picking us off one by one.. It's time we stopped being scared, and let them know what fear is. We have to take the fight to them!” He narrowed his eyes and Mikey shivered to see them. They were on fire. “And we're gonna start by taking Korse out, and this time, he's gonna fucking stay dead.”

XXX

Frank was perched on a bench, sitting by a field, cigarette between his lips, and his tablets in his hand. He watched as some young men played football close by, and he sighed as he saw the men play wrestle with eachother, and then laugh and joke. He wished he could experience that with his friends again. He grimaced and brought his hand up to his forehead as he felt another head ache threatening to assault him once more. As he brought two tablets to his lips, he took out the cigarette, and flicked it away. He closed his eyes as he popped the pills into his mouth and swallowed them, leaning back against the wall behind him. He saw the past so clearly, him and Gerard, Ray and Mikey simply standing around, playing, giggling, enjoying each others company. So happy, so content, before the bombs fell. Back when they were the band. Back when they were safe.

He let out a deep sigh.

He was so lost in his memories, he didn't hear the footsteps approaching.

“Well, well.” Frank instantly tensed. He wasn't alone any more. And then, he heard: “Hello again, stranger.”

Frank stopped dead. He heard the voice, and recognised it at once, though he didn't believe it. He opened his eyes and stared at the man standing a few feet away from him.

“How you doing, Frankie?” Billie Joe Armstrong asked him, a wide smile on his lips. Frank continued to stare, not quite believing what he could see right in front of him. Billie chuckled, and then Frank was getting up and moving over to his friend. Just seeing a friendly face, somebody who wanted to smile and act warmly towards him, was enough to send Frank straight into Billie's arms. Bille was surprised momentarily at the big gesture but recovered at once, wrapping his arms around the younger man and squeezing tightly. 

“It's good to see you,” Billie Joe told him.

Frank screwed up his eyes painfully. He couldn't reply.

“Where are the others?” The former Green Day lead singer enquired happily. “Aren't you guys usually joined at the hip?”

He meant it as a joke, so was completely taken aback when he heard the muffled sob from the other man. Billie paused, and then pulled away, his hands still grasping Frank's shoulders. He then stared intently into the other man's face.

“Frank, what’s wrong?”

Frank shook his head hurriedly, unable to look Billie Joe in the eye. Billie frowned, took hold of Frank's chin and gently, but firmly, made him look at him. 

“Tell me what's up. Maybe I can help?”

Frank grimaced. “There's no point, it won't make any difference.”

“Try me.”

The Killjoy took a deep breath, and then finally looked directly at Billie. “How's Adrienne and the kids?”

Billie Joe glanced away. “I'm not sure, I left them behind to keep them safe.” He stared into space. “I hope they still are.”

Frank nodded, knowing there was nothing he could say. He knew what it felt like to lose your family.

Billie turned and regarded Frank. “I heard about Jamia,” he said, softly. “I'm sorry.” 

Frank swallowed. Then hurriedly changed the subject.

“And Mike and Tre? Are they here?”

Billie instantly paled, any hint of a smile left on his face disappearing, and he actually turned away.

Frank waited, though he knew what was coming.

Finally, Billie spoke again.

“Mike is out on a task for the Doc. He's been gone for a few hours. I hope he's back soon.”

Frank didn't want to ask, he really didn't, but at the same time, he needed to know. They had all been friends, after all. “And Tre?”

Billie swallowed hard. When he did speak, there was a tremor in his voice. “It happened five months ago, Frank. We were out in the Zones, getting supplies. We got split up. Tre was captured by an exterminator, tortured, and killed.”

Frank felt sick. What could he say? So softly, he asked; “Was he ghosted?”

“Shot, you mean?” Billie shook his head. “Fuck, I wish it had been that quick-” He then stared into space, unable to finish his sentence. After a moment, he added; “I miss him. So does Mike. We aren't right without him.” 

Frank covered his face with his hands. “I'm so sorry, Bill. Tre was a great guy.”

Billie shuffled in his seat, and looked down at his hands. He then regarded the younger man once again and was shocked to see that Frank was visibly trembling. He was even more unnerved when he placed a hand on Frank's shoulder, only for the guitarist to push him away.

“Frankie, you sure everything is good with you?” Billie asked him, with a frown. “Because I actually think that you're bullshitting me.”

Frank grimaced.

“I'm okay, Billie. Honestly.”

The Green Day singer watched him intently. He didn't need to say anything. And Frank knew there was no pulling the wool over the man's eyes.

Billie continued to watch him and Frank cringed under the intensity of that stare. What was the good in not being honest? That was what had landed him in all the shit in the first place.

“I made a stupid mistake, Bill. I lied to the rest of the guys, and I put them all in danger.” 

Billie frowned. “Well, we all make mistakes, Frankie. The other guys won't-”

“It was my fault Lindsey _died!_ ” Frank exclaimed, anguished. “And I got Mikey tortured. If I'd been honest about what had happened to me, if I'd never rushed off and tried to be a fucking avenger in the first place, none of us would be in this fucking _mess_ -”

He broke off, covering his face with his hands. Billie put a hand on Frank's shoulder, offering him what comfort he could. “What did happen to you out there, Frank? I heard about what that fucker Korse did to Gerard but then it came through to us that you ghosted that bastard. If he's dead, things will get better-”

“He's not dead,” Frank interrupted, not able to hear any more. “We were wrong.”

Billie blinked. “But the Doctor-”

“We all thought he was dead. He looked dead. He should be dead.” Frank leapt to his feet, kicking the bench in his anger. “But the drugs those fuckers take, they saved his life and he's now got some kind of personal fucking vendetta against Gee. He can follow us anywhere, thanks to me. He knows everything about all of us, about the band, about me and Gerard.” He paused at that, glancing at Billie momentarily. 

Billie shrugged, giving him a small smile. “Everyone knew, Frank. It was obvious.”

Frank nodded. “Yeah.” He rubbed at the back of his head nervously. “Not that it matters. Gerard can't stand the sight of me now.”

“Everyone has arguments,” Billie began but Frank cut across him.

“He doesn't trust me. None of them do. I'm out.”

“Don't be fucking stupid. They all love you. You've been through so much together. They would die for you, and you for them.”

Frank fought back tears. He knew, he still would. He'd still die for any of those three men. The worst thing for him was that they no longer knew it.

“Yeah well,” he replied, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “Doesn't change anything. They found out that I've been taking BL/I drugs and Korse knew things, private things, things he could only have known if myself or Gerard had told him.” He looked off into the distance, a strange tone to his voice. “They actually think I've been giving that company information, of my own free will. They wouldn't listen to me, wouldn't give me a chance to explain. And now, it's all over. And I'm on my own.”

Billie shook his head in disbelief. “This is fucking bullshit. I'll talk to Gerard, Mikey and Ray. I'll make them see sense, and get you guys in the same room together. Then you can talk to each other-”

“They won't talk to me, they think Korse is listening to us.”

Bille suddenly went quiet. He stared at Frank, apparently taking in what he had just said. “What do you mean?” He asked quietly. “Listening to you?”

Frank looked down at his feet. “When I thought he'd killed Gerard, like I said, I went after him. He over powered me, got out his shooter gun, and injected me with some shit. Since then, I've been getting these fucking head aches.” He wiped at his forehead, recalling the mind-splitting ache. “They reprogrammed Lindsey and sent her after Gee to fuck him up some more. She told me I'd been “marked,” whatever the fuck that means-”

He suddenly noticed how pale Billie Joe had grown at his every word. He stared at him, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“What?”

Billie Joe didn't reply for a second. Frank stood beside him, waiting. Finally, the former lead singer spoke up again, his concern clear by his tone. “He marked you?” he echoed. “He injected something into your temple?”

Frank nodded. “Yeah.” He pulled out his small tub of tiny pills. “These stop the headaches though.”

Billie Joe reached out and grabbed the tablets from Frank. He looked at them intently. “You're taking these? Are the headaches getting worse? And more frequent?”

Frank's mouth was suddenly dry. He didn't like Billie's tone. The worry he recognised there scared him.

“Yes.”

Billie gave Frank back his pills, and then glanced away, apparently considering what to do. Then, he quickly looked at Frank and gave him a reassuring smile. “I'd better go and see the Doc, Frankie,” he said. “I gotta discuss something with him-”

“What's wrong, Bill?” Frank whispered. “What did I say?”

Billie chuckled, but his panic was obvious. “Nothing buddy, it's all cool. The Doc is just waiting to see me, that's all.” He walked a few feet away from Frank then, looking towards two young men who were kicking a football to each other near by.

“Gareth, Luka;” Billie called, gesturing for them to come over. They didn't hesitate. Leaving their ball behind, they came running across the field, wide smiles on their faces.

“Yeah, Bill?” The first man, Luka, said. “What do you need?”

“I need you to take Fun Ghoul here to the medical centre.” Billie replied at once. “And tell any doctors you see to come find me, okay?”

They were both staring at Frank, their eyes wide with recognition.

“You're a Killjoy, aren't you?” Gareth managed, staring at Frank in complete awe.

“That's right,” Billie answered quickly, saving Frank the bother. “Can you just get him there for me, guys? And fast?”

Frank was scared. He didn't want to go with these men, men he didn't know. He wanted to stay with Billie Joe.

“Billie,” he asked him. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing!” Billie replied, at once, with a wave of his hand. “Its fine...”

“I'm not stupid, Billie.” 

Billie stopped then, took Frank's hand and grasped it. “I know you're not, pal. I'll be straight back, I promise.” He turned back to Gareth and Luka then, leaned close to Luka and whispered in his ear. The reaction was immediate. Luka pulled Frank up and began to pull him along, indicating for Gareth to do the same. Frank swung back round, and called to Billie again.

“I'll meet you there, Frankie.” Billie urged him and then turned and hurried away.

Frank could only watch him go as he was pulled in the opposite direction. And, he was terrified.

XXX

The meeting was still ongoing between Death and the Killjoys. Nothing had been decided. Gerard was still pushing an all out assault, where as Death was advising a calm response. Though Mikey and Ray understood Gerard's need to do something big, and quickly, they were also worried about the very high chance of total failure. Mikey had reminded Gerard that he was what BL/I were after, and willingly walking in the City was giving them exactly what they wanted on a plate. So, the arguments continued.

Just as Gerard had commented tha perhaps it was time for them all to take a cigarette break, Billie Joe chose that moment to rush in. Gerard looked up, stunned. The other Killjoys were just as amazed, and delighted, to see their old friend. Gerard instantly moved towards the newcomer.

“Billie Joe!” He held out his hand warmly.

Billie walked over to meet him, but instead of embracing him, he promptly punched Gerard in the face, knocking him back. Gerard let out a low cry in surprise, and backed right off, his hand covering his nose.

“What the fuck?” Gerard demanded.

Billie Joe grabbed his arm. “What the hell is going on between you guys and Frank? Do you know how upset he is?”

Gerard grimaced. “You don't understand. We can't trust him.”

Billie was on him in a flash, getting right in Gerard's face. “What the fuck are you talking about? _This is Frank!”_

Bert suddenly approached Billie, giving him a small shove, away from Gerard. “Why don't you back off, Billie Joe? You really don't know what-”

Billie gave Bert a distrustful look. “Excuse me, I was talking to Gerard.”

Bert crossed his arms over his chest. “Yeah, and he's my friend.”

“Is that right?” Billie snorted. “Tell you what, why don't you get out of my fucking face?”

An uncomfortable silence filled the room. Bert glared back at Billie hatefully.

Gerard stepped in front of Bert, his hands raised. “Billie Joe, it's really not as simple as you think it is.”

“Oh, it's really simple, Gee.” Billie stopped closer. “You need to go and see Frank, and sort this shit out.”

The red head shook his head. “I can't do that.”

Billie frowned. “Then you're not the man you were. If you care about Frank at all, you need to _sort this out,_ Gerard Way. While you still can.”

Gerard blinked. “And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Death Defying moved his chair closer. “Billie, what is all this about?”

Billie turned, his expression grim. “Doc, Frank was marked by Korse.”

Death paled instantly. He exchanged horrified glances with Show Pony, now standing at the door way, and then buried his head in his hands. The Killjoys regarded eachother, panic setting in quickly.

Bert coughed. “Maybe we should suspend the meeting-”

Billie rounded on Bert. “I thought I told you to fucking keep out of this!”

Bert balled his hands into fists. “You're a superior little shit, aren't you, Armstrong?”

The Green Day lead singer smirked. “It's not hard to be superior to the likes of you, McCracken. Go be jealous elsewhere, yeah?” And with that, he turned his back on the furious Bert, addressing Gerard once more.

“Frank was injected when he went after Korse-”

Gerard fidgetted, his hands in his jean pockets. “Yeah, we know that. That's the problem. He's BL/I's perfect spy.”

Billie stared at Gerard in utter disbelief. 

“It's not about that, you fucking idiot! What's the _matter_ with you? Don't you fucking _get_ it?”

Gerard glared at Billie. “Don't call me-”

“Gerard,” Billie interrupted, his patience completely expired. “You _need_ to listen to me.” He grabbed the other man's arm, pulling Gerard closer so he could hiss into his ear. 

“If you don't get your head out of your ass, and get him some fucking help, Frank is going to _die._ ”

TBC.


	21. Chapter 21

All Gerard could hear was the sound of his own breathing, raspy and painful, as he stared at Billie Joe in disbelief. What had the man just said? What the fuck was this?

“You can't just-” Gerard began, speaking softly, trying to remain calm. He fixed Billie with a disbelieving stare. “What are you talking about?”

Billie's gestured theatrically. “I don't know, Gerard, what do you think I mean?” He rolled his eyes. “It _means_ that those headaches are _killing_ Frank.” He shook his head furiously, slamming his hand into his forehead. “He has a little chip stuck in his fucking head and that chip is going to give him a brain haemorrhage, which is going to kill him. Am I making any fucking sense now? Do you fucking follow me _now?_ ”

Gerard looked toward Mikey and Ray for some support but there was none forthcoming. They were simply staring at Billie in horrified silence. 

What the fuck had happened? Where had Billie Joe even come from? Gerard had always hero-worshipped the guy, they all had. He was not only a major part of why My Chemical Romance had existed, he was also the reason any of them were still alive. He had come to Gerard, had warned him and told him to run. And Gerard had been running ever since.

But now Billie Joe was staring at Gerard with distrust and dislike, and it was hurting Gerard more than he would ever admit. He had been so thrown by what had happened with Frank; so confused and wounded that the man he had trusted above all others had hidden something so important from him. But this he had not expected. This he simply would not, could not, believe. 

Frank couldn't be dying. Frank was indestructible. 

Gerard couldn't stop himself from trembling. He could feel everyone's gaze in the room locked squarely on him, waiting for him to make a move, to say something. What could he say? What the fuck did they want from him?

Death Defying broke the long, horrible silence.

“We need to find Frank. Billie, where is he?”

Billie's condemning stare was still boring into Gerard. A crazed glint in his eye, the Green Day singer looked like he was getting ready to attack the other man again, and this time, he would keep punching. Finally, he turned his attention to their leader.

“He's at the hospital.”

The Doc nodded. “Good. Who is he with?”

“I asked Gareth and Luka to take him there, to find him a doctor, and then come and fetch me.” He shot a sideways glance to Gerard. “I just hope we're not too late.”

Gerard looked up at that. He glowered at Billie.

“Or, maybe _you've_ made a mistake.”

Billie took a step toward Gerard. Before he could reach him though, Bert was in Billie's face once more.

“Why don't you take a deep breath before you give yourself a stroke, pal?”

“Bert,” the Doc spoke up. “Leave it.” He looked the former Used front man up and down. “Perhaps you and I should-”

Bert rounded on Death Defying. “ _He's_ the one who needs to watch his fucking mouth, not me! He doesn't know-”

“I don't know?” Billie repeated, with a pretence of calm. “What don't I fucking know, Bert?”

Bert shrugged.

Billie snapped, his temper finally getting the better of him. “I asked you a fucking question! What don't I know?” Bert still said nothing, and Billie's voice went up an octave. “If you're trying to fucking say that I don't know what it's like to fucking watch the man I love die, well, guess what, ass-wipe?” He paused, his eyes wide in anger, as he jabbed furiously in Bert's direction. “ _Yes, I fucking do.”_

His cold words were snarled with such hate, venom, and most of all, pure agony; that Gerard found he could no longer look at the smaller man.

Bert glowered at Billie, but, thankfully, didn't reply.

Death Defying cleared his throat. “Billie-”

“Tre was captured;” Billie continued, ignoring the doctor's attempted interjection. “An Exterminator was waiting for us while we were on a mission. They were looking for me but Tre-” He broke off, looking away. “Tre shoved past me, he went mad, killed half a dozen of the bastards single-handedly before he was over powered. I tried to help him and they caught me too, and made me kneel and watch as they injected him with a shooter gun.”

Gerard winced. He wanted to block out Billie's words. He didn't need to hear this. 

Billie kept talking. No one interrupted him.

“The Exterminator, I hadn't seen him before. He wasn't like Korse, that bastard is loud and proud. This fucker chose to hide behind a mask and they spoke through a distorter. I was the one the bastard wanted, I knew that, and I told 'him' to leave Tre alone and deal with me instead. But he just laughed. Then, Tre started to scream. The crippling headaches he was getting, they just took over. I've never seen anybody in so much pain, he was fucking terrified.”

Mikey had his head in his hands. Ray had one hand on the younger man's arm, his eyes locked on the ground. Even Bert's customary smirk had disappeared. Everyone's attention was firmly on the tortured man, as he faced the memories that had haunted him for months.

Billie let out a shaky breath before continuing. “Mike arrived on the scene then, with the Doc, Pony and a team of rebels. The Exterminator turned and fucking _ran._ Fucking coward. I tried to go after him but he was too fast. And then I heard Mike screaming my name.” His eyes met Gerard's. “I got back to Tre just in time. He suffered a massive brain haemorrhage there and then, and within seconds, he was gone. He died in my arms.”

He finished, wiping angrily at the tears streaming down his face with the back of his hand.

No one spoke. No one knew what to say.

Finally, Gerard cleared his throat.

“I'm sorry,” he offered. “I'm so sorry, Billie.”

“Yeah,” came the rushed reply. “I can't bring Tre back. And I'll never know who that fucking Exterminator was, so I’ll never get to rip his throat out with my teeth for what he did. But, I can help you save Frank. If you want to.” 

Gerard reacted to the last sly dig.

“How could you think I don’t-”

Billie was suddenly standing right in Gerard's face. Gerard shivered, those huge, staring eyes were filled with rage and hate. He seemed to be looking right into Gerard, sizing him up. With no further warning, Billie moved, as fast and light as a cat, taking them all by surprise. He grabbed Gerard by the throat, pushed him against the wall behind him, and then actually began to squeeze, so lost in his grief and fury.

Mikey and Ray reacted at once, rushing to help Gerard, and to force Billie away. But Billie refused to budge.

“Don't you _see_ yet, Gerard?” He spat. “Do you get how important each day is? Do you get what you could lose, you fucking idiot?”

Ray grabbed hold of Billie around his middle, picked him up and literally threw him away from Gerard. He and Mikey then moved between their leader and the furious Billie Joe, and Ray held up a hand in warning.

“Back off, Billie. For fucks sake. Don’t make this worse.”

Bille seemed to listen. Taking a moment to contain himself, he pointed a trembling finger at Gerard. 

And then, he screamed into the other man's face. 

“What are _you_ gonna do about this, GERARD FUCKING WAY?”

The red head recoiled from the other man's anger, and closed his eyes tightly, trying to think. He brought a weary hand up to his forehead. “It's just headaches,” he said, so softly, so desperately, trying to convince himself more than anyone else. “He should have told me about them, what Korse did.” He looked at Billie then, tears threatening to distort his vision. “He didn't tell me and Korse was listening to everything we said and did. They got to Frank-”

“Yes,” Billie snarled. “They did. And you will lose him to them if you don't wake the fuck up.” He placed his hand over his heart. “Take it from someone who fucking knows how it feels to lose the one you love the most to these fucking BL/I bastards.” He paused then, lowering his voice. “Don’t make the mistakes I did. You’ll regret them forever if you do.”

“I really think we all need a time out.” Bert was at Gerard's side again then, a protective arm slung over his shoulder. He was glaring daggers at Billie. “Gerard needs one anyway.”

“And what about Frank?” Ray chimed in. “If Billie is right-”

“I am right,” Billie snapped. He regarded Bert, not even bothering to hide his disdain. “And I'm not the only one who knows it, am I?”

Bert tightened his hold on Gerard.

Mikey stepped forward. He found himself disliking Bert's stance more with every passing second. The man couldn’t seem to care less about Tre, or Billie’s pain. His attention was focused solely on Gerard, and that just wasn’t right. Not given the circumstances. It seemed to abruptly dawn on Mikey that the “supportive” arm holding on to his brother was more possessive than protective.

He cleared his throat.

“Frank was injected days ago. How come he's-” He looked down, unable to finish the sentence.

“Because of those pills he's been taking.” Billie replied.

Ray blinked. “How did he come across those things again?”

Bert shrugged. “Korse must have given them to him.”

Mikey stared. “Korse gave him the drugs?” He raised an eyebrow. “Was that before or after Frank killed him, Bert?”

“Okay, he must have taken the pills from Korse then! Maybe he searched the body.”

Mikey crossed his arms over his chest. “And why would he have taken anything? Did he think, just in case I get headaches, I'll take some BL/I shit that will probably fuck me up completely?”

“Mikey,” Gerard spoke up. “That's enough. We don't know where the pills came from. Lets leave it at that.” Something unreadable quickly flashed across his face. “For now.”

Bert gave him an angry glance.

Billie cleared his throat. “Those pills might just have saved him. We have to get Frank into surgery, find that chip and get the fucker out.”

Mikey looked up, suddenly hopeful but nervous. “You can do that?”

Billie nodded, pushing a hand through his hair. “We learned a lot from what they did to Tre. We can try.” He glanced down. “That's all we can do.”

At that moment, a young man rushed into the room, taking them all by surprise.

“Billie!”

Billie was up and over to the newcomer at once.

“Gareth. How's Frank?”

“He's okay. He's at the Medi Centre now with Luka and some doctors. He came across your guitar that you keep in there. Totally perked up when he saw it.”

The singer smiled. “Good.”

Gareth was staring in awe at the three Killjoys, barely concealing his excitement.

“It's great to meet you guys,” he said. “You're legends where I'm from.”

Ray nodded politely, and shook the young man's hand.

“Can you take us to Frank, please?”

Gareth beamed. “Sure.”

He moved to the door, and waited. 

Death Defying let out a big sigh. “You guys go on without me. I'll meet you there. Gareth and Show Pony know the way.”

Billie nodded his understanding, and then looked toward Gerard.

“After you.”

Gerard hesitated. 

Billie scowled at him. “What?”

The red head glanced away. “Frank will be so scared. He hates hospitals.”

The former Green Day singer's expression actually softened. “Then, let's get over there and give him some support, yeah? It's the least you can fucking do.”

Gerard nodded. He gestured for Mikey and Ray to follow Gareth, and then he looked toward Bert.

“You go on ahead,” he told him, but didn't look directly at him. Bert paused, apparently unsure, and then headed off after Ray and Mikey. 

Gerard said nothing as he followed the others, with Billie Joe right behind him.

XXX

They arrived at the medi centre a few minutes later. Gerard had stayed to the back, scared at what Frank’s reaction would be when he saw him. He knew he owed Frank an apology, knew he had to make a lot of shit up to him. He could only pray to God that he would get the opportunity.

As soon as they got to the make shift hospital though, they knew something was badly wrong. It was too quiet. Frighteningly quiet.

Billie ran through the entrance, calling for Luka, and then for Frank. And then, they all heard his furious yell of; “ _What the fuck?_ ” That made them all run in panic. They all rushed in to be greeted with the worse sight possible. The place was like a mess, and there had clearly been a fight, and very recently. They walked through another doorway to find three men lying on the ground, and one locked in a third room, banging desperately on the door. Worst of all, Frank was nowhere to be seen. Gareth ran to his friend Luka's side, and helped him up.

Billie was checking all the doctors pulses one after another, his grim face showing just how bad this situation was. “They're just stunned,” he reported. “They'll be fine.”

Luka moaned, coming round, and Billie was by his side at once.

“What happened?” He urged.

The young man grimaced. “Frank happened.”

Bert snorted. Mikey swung round, and gave him a filthy look. 

Ray edged closer. “Frank did this?”

“Yeah,” Luka confirmed. “He was scared, and when the doctors started discussing his symptoms, and the treatment he needed, he panicked.”

Gerard sighed. “He can't stand people talking about him, not to him.” 

Luka gaped at Gerard. “Stare later,” Billie snapped. “Talk now.”

“Sorry,” the boy apologised. “Frank was demanding answers, but we didn’t think it was our place to tell him. The Docs tried to calm him down, tried to give him sedative, but he just he went mad. I think he thought we were gonna hurt him. He grabbed my gun off of me, stunned two of the doctors with it, and locked the third in the operating room. He then knocked me out. When I woke up, he was gone. He must have run.” He cast his eyes down to the floor. “I'm sorry, Billie.”

“I don't fucking believe this!” Billie erupted. “What the fuck did you let him run for? You knew he was marked, and you knew what it meant-”

“We didn't exactly _let_ him,” Luka cut in. “He is a Killjoy. He's the best.”

Mikey felt a glow of pride. He opened his mouth, ready to voice his approval, but someone spoke before he could.

“Yes, he is.”

Mikey turned, to see Gerard eyeing him, a small smile on his lips. The two brothers exchanged a knowing look. They would get to Frank. They had to.

Billie, meanwhile, was still fuming. “How long ago did this happen?” 

One of the Doctor's stepped forward, rubbing at the back of his head. “Not long. Five minutes.”

Billie nodded. “Okay-”

The doctor raised a hand. “There's something else, Billie. I had taken the Better Living tablets from him to run checks, to see what exactly they were, and he left here without them...”

Billie paled. He knew what that meant. Frank's chances had just significantly lessened and they had even less time to get to him.

He gave himself a small shake. “Right, he can't have got far, we have to find him, do you hear me? Five minutes could make all the difference. We'll find him. Now, I want all of you to get out there and-”

Billie froze, suddenly stopping mid flow. Something had caught his gaze, and he looked horrified. Show Pony glanced at him impatiently.

“What?” He enquired.

“The little _shit!_ ”

Mikey blinked. He looked at the spot where Billie was staring, but there was nothing there. 

“Billie, what-”

“THE FUCKER TOOK MY GUITAR, THAT'S WHAT!”

Mikey felt the almost impossible desire to laugh. He closed his eyes quickly. When he opened them again, Billie was doing his best to compose himself.

“I swear to God, if he harms one string on that guitar, I'll kill him!”

Silence fell. The discomfort they all suddenly felt was horrendous. Billie went red, and quickly looked toward the door.

“We'll find him,” he repeated, with utter conviction. Then, to Show Pony, he added; “Lets go.”

With that, Show Pony and Billie ran on ahead, already instructing each other to organise search parties and then inform Death Defying. The Doctors, Gareth and Luka filed out after them. Mikey and Ray went to rush out too, but stopped when they saw that Gerard had sat down on one of the plastic seats, his hands covering his face.

Mikey, looking decidedly unimpressed, went to his brother, and leaned over him.

“Gee, we have to go now.”

Gerard didn't respond.

Mikey frowned. “Gee?”

“What have I done?” His brother whispered, in a tiny voice.

“You didn't know.” Bert purred, pushing Gerard's hair out of his eyes.

“I should have believed him! What the _fuck_ have I done? How can I face him?”

“He loves you,” Ray interjected. “Always has done. He'll forgive you the second he sees you, and you know it. Don't let him down again, Gerard.”

The red head whimpered.

“Come on, Gee,” Mikey pleaded. “Come with us.”

“I can't.”

Ray was incredulous. “Gerard-”

“I said, I can't, Ray! Don't push it!”

“Billie was right,” Ray hissed. “You aren't the man you were.”

Gerard clenched his fists.

Bert coughed, breaking the tension, and then nodded toward the door. “Mikey, Ray? You two should go help in the search.”

Ray frowned, and then considered. Finally, he nodded. “Some of us should help look, you're right, Bert.” He threw a furious look at Gerard. “Or all of us, even. Meet you outside, Mikes. I can't be in here any more.”

With that, he stormed out. Mikey stared after him, devastated.

“Go on, Mikey.” Bert said, after a beat.

Mikey pursed his lips together. “I should stay with Gerard.”

“I'll keep an eye on him,” Bert replied, with a smile. “Don't worry.”

Mikey glanced at the doorway, unsure what to do. The one thing he really didn't want to happen was for Bert to be left alone with Gerard.

“Go on, Mikey.” Gerard urged. “It's fine. I just need a second to sort my head out, then I'll come after you and Ray.”

Mikey gave his brother one last look, and then left the room, calling out for Ray to wait for him.

Once they were alone, Bert reached out, and took Gerard's hand. “You mustn't blame yourself, you know. How were you supposed to know? Billie was out of fucking order with what he said.”

Gerard grimaced. “He wasn't, Bert. He was right. I was so angry, I didn't think. I couldn't think. I just wanted to hurt Frank, because I was in so much pain myself.”

“That's not a fucking surprise!” Bert exclaimed. “After what you went through, you need those closest to you to be honest. Frank let you down. He let you all down.”

Very slowly, Gerard raised his head, and stared at Bert. The look on his face seemed to make Bert uncomfortable, and he let go of Gerard's hand.

“He didn't let me down,” Gerard announced. There was a warning to his tone. He didn't want Bert to bad mouth Frank again. “I let him down. I should have been there for him, he should have been able to tell me anything. Not just as his leader, but also his lover.”

“Well,” Bert snapped. “That's all over now, anyway.”

Gerard blinked. “Why?”

Bert actually scoffed. “You turned your back on him!”

Gerard gritted his teeth. “I can make it up to him.”

“You might not have too long.”

Gerard froze. His gaze met Bert's, and Bert knew he's gone too far. 

“He's not going to fucking die!” Gerard spat. He gestured angrily. “What the fuck am I even sitting here for? What good will that do?”

Bert said nothing. His face was blank.

Gerard shook his head, clearing the last of the cobwebs away, and then got to his feet, ready to go after the others, and join the search.

“Wait.”

Bert's hands were suddenly on him, pulling him back down, preventing him from leaving.

“Bert,” Gerard managed. “What are you doing?”

“I need you, Gee;” Bert slurred in his ear. “I need you right now. And you want it too. I know you do. Just go with it.”

“No! Bert, I-”

His protesting was cut off as Bert gripped Gerard's face, holding him in place, then leant into him, pressing his lips to Gerard's, and giving him a wet, sloppy kiss.

Gerard moaned, wriggled and fought against Bert's hold on him, finally forcing the other man away. He then punched Bert in the eye, and Bert gasped in surprise, bringing a stunned hand up to his sore cheek, glaring evilly at Gerard.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He growled.

Gerard's eyes widened. “Wrong with me? What's wrong with _you?_ ”

“I want you!”

“Well, I don't want you! Not then, not now, not ever!”

Bert was incensed. “Why the hell not?”

“You actually HAVE to ask me-” He shook his head in amazement. “I don't have time for this.”

Bert grabbed his wrist, only for Gerard to shake him off.

“You don't have fucking time for me, Gerard? Nothing new there! You owe me!”

Gerard stared at Bert breathlessly, not quite believing what he was hearing. “I'm just gonna go,” he told the other man wearily, deciding his best option was to flee. He suddenly wanted to be as far away from his old friend as possible. “I have to find the others.”

He then went to walk around Bert, aiming for the door just beyond him, and freedom.

Bert had other ideas.

“Where the fuck do you think you're going?!”

He grabbed Gerard by the hair, dragging him away from the exit, and safety, and forcing him back against the wall. Gerard struggled, staring up at Bert with surprise and fear. Bert leaned in closer, and snarled in Gerard's ear.

“You fucked that traitor Iero like a whore, but you tell me no?” He chuckled. “I don't fucking think so.”

He smacked Gerard's head against the wall, not hard enough to knock him out, but viciously enough to leave the other man dazed. Gerard offered no further resistance as Bert pinned him against the wall, thrusting his hips up against the other man. He kissed his neck, and then sucked. Gerard could only cringe as he felt Bert's breath.

“Stop,” Gerard moaned. “Bert, don't do this to me. Not after what-" He cried out in despair as Bert groped him through his clothes. He could only whimper his distress. He was going to be raped again. Only this time, by someone he had trusted. Bert was right; he was a slut.

"Please..." He pleaded.

“Shut up,” Bert breathed. “I've earned this.”

Keeping Gerard trapped in place, Bert's hands quickly moved to the other man's belt.

“Hey!” The voice came from nowhere. “Get the fuck off of him!”

Suddenly, Bert was being dragged off of Gerard, and he swore in frustration. He rounded on the newcomers, only to come face to face with a furious Ray. Bert raised his fist, ready to fight, but then thought better of it. He glanced over a Gerard, and actually had the decency to feel nervous when he saw the state of the other man. 

Gerard was leaning against the wall, Mikey at his side, as he fought to catch his breath. He was bleeding slightly from a wound on the side of his head, and he was trembling all over. Gerard was staring at Bert, as if he was only truly seeing him for the first time.

Ray had hold of Bert by his shoulders, and he was shaking him.

“What the fuck were you doing?” He demanded. “How could you touch him? What the fuck is _wrong_ with you?”

Bert glared daggers at Ray and then gestured angrily at Gerard. 

“You've got it all wrong! He came on to _me_!”

The red head looked up, blinked, and stared at Bert. “What did you say?”

Bert hesitated.

Gerard shook his head, mouth hanging open. Very softly, he added; “You fucking liar. Never in a million fucking years would I ever want you, McCracken!”

And then, with a yell of fury, he launched himself at Bert, ignoring the pain this caused, pain coursing through his abused body in waves. He took no notice of the fact that he was still significantly weaker due to the ordeals he had faced. He didn't even notice Ray and Mikey both rushing to grab him, to restrain him as he tried to get to Bert. He had never felt so angry. Anger that he actually felt mainly for himself.

Because he _knew._ He had been so fucking stupid. “You piece of shit. What else have you lied about?”

Bert scoffed. “Nothing!”

Gerard clenched his fists. “Did you lie about Frank?”

Something flashed across Bert's face. It was there for only a second, but it was long enough for Gerard to see.

It was _amusement._

Mikey and Ray saw it too. They stared at Bert, shock and anger now radiating from them too. They abruptly released Gerard, who was now breathing hard, containing his temper and keeping it at bay. 

“I was right about you,” Mikey snarled. “The whole fucking time!”

Bert smirked.

Gerard edged closer.

“I'll ask you once more, Bert;” the Killjoy said, clearly and slowly, holding a hand out to restrain Mikey. “And you had better tell me the fucking truth.” His gaze met Bert's. “Did you give Frankie those pills?”

Bert hesitated. That was all it took, that was all the confirmation Gerard needed. And, in that second, he knew.

As the realisation hit Gerard square in the eyes, so did the horror of what that epiphany actually meant.

“Oh my fucking God,” he breathed. “I have to find Frank.”

Bert took a step toward Gerard, who raised a hand, bringing Bert to a sudden halt, forcing him to keep his distance. “Gee,” Bert pleaded softly. “Please listen to me. I did it for you. I wanted you to give me a shot to make what happened before up to you. I wanted you to trust me-”

Gerard laughed coldly. His eyes flashed dangerously. “Good job,” he told Bert.

Bert swallowed, and then tried again. “I didn't want to hurt you, I swear. I just wanted to be close to you after everything I saw. I fucking care so much about you. I knew you wouldn't give me a fucking chance to prove to you that I'd changed unless-”

 _“Shut the fuck up._ ” Gerard pointed at Bert, his eyes flaming. “I don't want to hear another fucking word from you. You're out, Bert. Do you hear me? You stay the fuck away from me. And I don't want see you ever again after today.”

Bert shrugged. “I'll do as I want.”

“Yeah, as long as it’s nothing to do with us,” Mikey cut in. “I can't believe I gave you another fucking chance...” 

“Enough, Mikey. He's not worth it.” Ray threw in, staring at Bert in disgust. 

Gerard jerked his head. “We need to think about Frank now. He's what matters.”

The others nodded, understanding. It was time to leave Bert, and the whole sorry mess, behind. 

As Ray and Mikey filed out quickly, their worry was evident on both of their faces. There was a determination about them too. They would find Frank, and they would put this right.

Whatever it took.

Gerard stopped at the doorway, his eyes locked on Bert's. “You keep away from me,” he told him. It wasn't a request. “I want you away from here. Away from me, Mikey, and Ray. And once we've found Frank, I swear to God that if you go anywhere near him, I'll kill you.”

Bert trembled slightly, and narrowed his eyes. “Think you'll find him, do you?”

Gerard gazed at him, realisation suddenly dawning on him as he looked Bert up and down. “Yeah, I do. And, I'll save his life. You just watch me.”

Then, he walked out, slamming the door behind him, shutting Bert out.

Bert watched them go, and glared evilly as he wiped at the blood still spilling from his cut lip. He went to stand, and then froze, staring into space. 

“I'm sorry,” he mumbled. “He's not as weak as I expected.”

He waited for the reply, grimacing.

“The brother is not-” He argued, with the voice only he could hear.

Another beat, as his hand went up to cup his ear, and he scrunched up his eyes, as if in pain.

“I understand that-”

He reacted, his eyes widening in excitement.

“Yes, it does make sense. A change of target would certainly seem a viable option.”

Another pause.

“Where?” He breathed. “Where is he?”

He listened, and then, he chuckled.

“Oh yes ma'am,” he whispered. “That would be my pleasure.”

And then, softly, and cruelly, Bert laughed.

XXX

Frank was alone again. He was sat up on a small wall, swinging his legs, Billie's prized guitar grasped in his hands, and he was gently strumming it. He didn't know why he had grabbed it, and was aware that he had in fact stolen something, _stolen from Billie Joe Armstrong,_ of all people, but in that second, he had been unable to resist it. As he sat there, his thoughts returned to what he had done in that Medi Centre, to people who had only had his best interests at heart. Why had he panicked so much? Perhaps he hadn't wanted to face up to whatever it was they had to say. 

He sighed. Maybe he would find himself regretting the decision to run, he certainly didn't like the fact that he'd hurt men who had only wanted to help him, but he couldn't help himself. He had gathered by not only what Billie Joe had told him, but also the comments made by the doctors, discussing him as if he hadn't been in the room, ignoring any questions or comments he made. He had felt like nothing but a nuisance and he had been unable to stand it for a second longer. So, his headaches were getting worse but they were his headaches! He'd dealt with them for long enough on his own, why should others, people he didn't even know, decide to involve themselves now? 

He moved, leaning the guitar against the wall, and then rubbed his hands together, not because he was cold obviously, but just to give himself some comfort. There was no one, no one to smile at him, hold him or tell him everything would be alright. God, he missed Mikey and Ray. And he missed Gerard, more than he could ever believe. Even if Gerard yelled at him, or ignored him, he'd take that. He just wanted to see the man he loved again. Especially if his suspicions were correct, and his time was nearly done.

He closed his eyes tightly. He was not stupid. He knew what was happening, knew what the worsening headaches meant. This was serious, deadly serious. There was no running away from the truth: He knew he was going to die. Every sympathetic glance that Gareth, Luka and those doctors had sent his way had confirmed it for him. They had told him they could help him, that he would be okay, but he hadn't believed them. But, if he was going to die, then he didn't want to die like that, being tested on like a guinea pig, for no reason. It was not going to end like that for him. He would die fighting, die trying. That's the man he was, the man he had always been.

And he wanted his best friends at his side.

Whether they wanted him there or not, he belonged with them. Running was not the answer, he knew that. He would not die alone.

He had made up his mind. He would be with Gerard at the end. He turned, and slowly, and with some discomfort, went to jump off of his perch, already planning to return to the base as quickly as he could, find Gerard and make him see reason. As he went to move, however, the nerves got the better of him once more, and he paused.

Why would Gerard listen to him? He hadn't before. What would have changed? Because he was ill? Because Frank was sick, and Gerard would feel sorry for him? Is that what Frank wanted? Gerard's sympathy? His pity? No, he didn't.

He couldn't go back there expecting Gerard to welcome him back with open arms, but he couldn't stand to be rejected again. Not in front of Billie, and the Doc. And he couldn't face seeing Bert's smirking face again, taunting him. 

With a heavy sigh, he picked up the guitar once more, gazing down at it, almost sorrowfully. As he held it in his hands once more, he was taken back again, back to a happy time, far away from all the fear and distrust he felt now. 

Trying to keep his emotions in check, he began to play the instrument, a melody coming to him, from so many years ago, and lyrics that grabbed his soul and squeezed, his heart breaking as he softy sang, and saw Gerard in his minds eye, singing those same words, and smiling at him, with so much love and contentment, love he would never see, or feel, from the man he adored ever again.

_“Hand in mine, into your icy blues  
And then I'd say to you we could take to the highway  
With this trunk of ammunition too  
I'd end my days with you in a hail of bullets”_

He closed his eyes tightly, and sang on, fighting back the tears.

_“I would drive on to the end with you  
A liquor store or two keeps the gas tank full  
And I feel like there's nothing left to do  
But prove myself to you and we'll keep it running” _

He was lost now, lost in the music, his memories, his love and his pain for the man he worshipped, the man he knew in his heart he would never get back. Maybe never even see again.

As his emotions took over, he sang louder, and he was away, and he was free, and he was flying. He hardly even noticed the tears that were cascading down his face as he sang on.

_“But this time, I mean it  
I'll let you know just how much you mean to me  
As snow falls on desert sky  
Until the end of everything.”_

“How tragic.”

Frank stopped abruptly. It was the taunting, cruel voice that he hoped he would never have to hear again that brought him out of his music induced stupor. He jumped, falling off of the wall, the surprise causing the guitar to drop from his grasp, and crashing to the ground with a bump. He cringed, worried that he had damaged Billie's most loved guitar. He could barely stand to look.

Bert had picked up the guitar and was now looking at the object closely, a lazy smile on his lips.

He then turned and regarded the brunette once more.

“Hey, Frankie,” Bert told him. “You're not looking too good. Better take a tablet.”

Frank closed his eyes. “I left them at the Medi Centre,” he replied, quietly.

“Oh,” Bert said, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. “That's a shame.”

Frank flicked open his eyes again, trying to focus on the hated face before him. He went to take the guitar off of Bert, but the other man moved it out of his reach.

“Leave me alone, Bert.” Frank sighed.

“Sorry Frank. Can't do that.”

Frank blinked. He brought a weary hand up to his aching forehead. “How did you find me?” He muttered.

“How do you think?” Bert replied, and lightly tapped the side of his head.

Frank stared at him, as his words sunk in. He paled then, and began to back away. 

Bert pretended not to notice, his eyes once more on the guitar. “This is Armstrong's, isn't it?”

Frank nodded, trying to concentrate on what was happening. This whole thing was so fucked up.

Bert continued; “I bet he's really worried that it's gone missing.”

And with that, Bert smashed the guitar into the wall, once, twice, and then for a third time. The guitar collapsed under the cruel blows, split wood flying everywhere. Frank could only watch in complete horror as Billie's pride and joy, the guitar Frank had taken without permission, was completely demolished. He made a move toward Bert, but when the other faced him once more, there was such cruelty on his face, so much hate, that Frank thought better of it.

He turned quickly, and hurried away as fast as he were able. He felt the wall as he went, supporting himself. He gritted his teeth when he heard that horrible chuckle, right behind him.

He got the shock of his life, however, when he blundered right into the waiting arms of two Draculoids, who instantly grabbed at him, holding him steady.

Frank cried out, the first and only word that popped into his head:

_“Gerard!”_

Suddenly, Bert had hold of him, and was pressing something to his mouth, forcing him to breathe in a drug. Instantly, Frank began to slip away, and the world getting dark, and he was so tired, and he had to close his eyes...

The last thing he heard was Bert's whispered, taunting words in his ear.

“Sorry Frank, he's not here.”

With a triumphant smirk, he allowed the unconscious Killjoy to slip to the ground.

Bert chuckled nastily as he leaned over his defeated foe.

“But if it's any consolation, you were right about me all along.”

TBC


	22. Chapter 22

It had taken them less than ten minutes to find the remains of what had once been Billie's guitar. Mikey had happened across it as he had searched for Frank, desperately calling his name, and when he had seen what was left of the instrument, he had called out, panicked, for the others. And they now all stood there together, Mikey, Gerard and Ray, looking down at the mess before them. Gerard covered his face with his hands, unable to control his emotions, and not wanting the others to see him break. Mikey and Ray were both at a loss for words, knowing nothing they could say could lessen Gerard's fears. Because they felt the same way. All the evidence was there before their eyes. Frank had been there, recently, and now he wasn't. And the wrecked guitar was proof that there had been a struggle.

“We have to keep looking,” Ray muttered. “Whatever happened-”

“Isn't it obvious what happened?” Gerard hissed, not looking at Ray. “Frank's gone.”

“You can't give up now, Gee-” Mikey began but, again, Gerard interrupted.

“Give up?” He repeated. His tone was icy. “Frank doesn't have his pills, Mikey. Without them, he is going to die anyway. And now, he's disappeared. Taken by the looks of things. Probably by a team of Dracs who were lying in wait. He's marked, remember? He probably walked right into their grasps.” He looked up then, agony adorning his features. “And all of this is my fault, isn't it?”

Ray rounded on Gerard angrily. “What do you want us to say, Gerard? Do you want us to sympathise, tell you not to be so stupid, and that everything is going to be okay? Is that the shit you need to hear? To make yourself feel better!?”

Gerard stared at him, wild eyed, stunned at the usually calm Ray's sudden tirade. He even took a step back, wanting more space between himself and other Killjoy. Ray kept on at him regardless, intent on getting his point across. 

“We're all to blame for this, Gee. You, me and Mikey, we all let Frank down. He needed us, pleaded with us to help him, but instead we threw him to the dogs. Don't you dare stand there now, feeling sorry for yourself. Not now, not with Frank still missing, still out there somewhere and still needing you. We will find him, Gerard. We have to.” He leaned closer. “But, to do that, what we do need is Party Poison firing on all cylinders to, just to give ourselves a fighting chance!”

Gerard couldn't bear to look at Ray. He knew every word the man had spoken was the truth, but that didn't mean it was easy for him to hear.

Ray grabbed Gerard by his arm then, pulled him even closer, and snarled in his ear. “What do you say then, Poison? Are you gonna snap out of this and become the leader again that we all need you to be? That _Frank_ needs you to be?”

“I don't know if I can,” Gerard muttered dejectedly.

“Do you love Frank?” Came the quick reply.

Gerard frowned. “Of course I do!”

Ray gestured furiously. “Then fucking prove it!” He released Gerard, and pushed him back. “Tell us what to fucking do, Poison! You're our leader!” He was fighting back tears. “Fucking lead us!”

Gerard, breathless, looked toward his brother for help, but Mikey merely gazed back, waiting for the red head to respond. 

They stood there, the three of them, in a circle around the remains of the guitar, each of them unsure what to do, or say, next.

It hit Gerard that they were wasting precious time.

Time that was all important if they were going to save Frank.

He narrowed his eyes, tightening his hand into a fist. He took a step towards Ray, who was watching him with a hopeful expression. Then -

“Guys! What have you found?”

The Killjoys suddenly exchanged alarmed looks, as Billie, with Gareth and Luka in tow, came rushing up to them. 

Billie went straight to Gerard, placing an arm around the taller man's shoulders. “We didn't find anything in the West Sector of the base, but we've got more search parties involved now, so if Frank is still in this base, we're gonna find him.”

Gerard was watching Billie with growing trepidation. How would the man react when he saw what was left of his once beloved guitar? Gerard wanted to protect Billie from the truth, so he tried to pull him away.

“We think he's well away from the base by now, Billie-”

“Why?” Billie demanded, shoving Gerard's arm away. “We've not seen any tracks leading-”

“There are some here,” a third voice suddenly spoke up, and they all turned to see Gareth kneeling down a few feet away, pointing at clear foot prints in the sand. His expression darkened as he looked toward Billie. “These look like Drac prints.”

“Let me see,” Billie snapped, and pushed past Gerard.

“Billie, wait-”

Billie didn't even hear Gerard's last gasp warning. He was staring down at what the Killjoys had been trying to shield him from: The sorry state of his once beautiful guitar, destroyed. He shook his head, as if clearing his vision would change what was right in front of him. He reached out, taking hold of the guitar's smashed arm, and lifted it, eyeing it intently. As if he almost believed that if he stared at it for long enough, the guitar would miraculously repair itself for him.

And then, with a soft moan, he felt to his knees before the wrecked instrument, shaking his head hopelessly, cursing under his breath.

They could only stand by and witness his pain. They understood it, of course they did. That guitar had been a link to the past for Billie, a reminder of a time that he had lost, that they had all lost. And now, it was gone too. Just another victim of the world that were forced to exist in.

Ray walked up to Billie cautiously, and crouched down beside him.

“I'm sorry, buddy.” He told him, quietly.

Billie wiped at his eyes furiously, and then glanced sideways at the Killjoy.

“I've owned this piece of shit for years, Y'know?” He whispered. “She was my last connection to the ba-” A pause. “To Green Day.”

They said nothing, watching him closely.

“It was all I had left of my time with Tre.”

“I'm sorry,” Mikey offered.

Billie frowned; his messy hair draped over his forehead, then stood up abruptly, and whirled away from the guitar, turning his back on it.

“Just a guitar,” he announced, trying to convince himself more than anyone else. “Not important.”

Gerard blinked. “It is important, Billie. Don't let these bastards make you lose-”

Billie waved a hand, cutting him off quickly. “It was just a thing, okay? It wasn't alive. It's not worth crying over when people, real fucking amazing people, are out there dying every fucking day!” He glared at Gerard. “People like Frank. I'm not gonna lose him like I lost-” He broke off, and looked back down at the ground quickly. “Look at this,” he urged. “We got tracks. We can follow them.”

“The tracks disappear,” Gareth said, softly. “Must have been covered.”

“Damn,” Billie replied. “Gotta find the fucker that did this-”

“Frank wouldn't have bashed up your guitar, Billie.”

Billie looked up, and rolled his eyes at Gerard. “No _shit,_ Sherlock.” He remarked. “I don't for one second think that it _was_ Frank. I know exactly who did it. It was that fucker, Bert.”

Gerard closed his eyes. He had obviously suspected the same thing, but had tried to tell himself that maybe there was another explanation. Maybe the man Gerard had once been best friends with hadn't sold him, and all the others, out to Better Living, to Korse, for his 30 pieces of silver. But he couldn't deny that it was the most likely scenario. Bert had turned them against Frank, had stood by and allowed Mikey and Frank to be tortured, had tried to rape Gerard, had even caused Lindsey's death. And now, he was very likely taking Frank to his end, too. Gerard knew, in his heart, that Bert had been behind it all. He was the true spy, and Gerard had been taken in completely. Too completely. And even now, even after all the evidence, Gerard still wanted to trust Bert, wanted to believe that he could be a better man, a man Gerard could depend on. 

And Gerard didn't understand why.

“We have to get after them,” He breathed, pushing his troubled thoughts to one side. 

“What?” Luka stated. “Now? Gareth just told you, the tracks-”

“Fuck the tracks!” Gerard glowered at the younger man. “Frank is out there, and he's alone, and he's in danger. He'll be scared shitless and it's all my fucking fault so, yeah, I'm thinking now would be a good fucking time.”

Bille sighed. “It's too dangerous, Gee.” He stared out, into the desert. “We're too far out now, away from the safety of the base. We have to be patient, regroup, get back, see the Doc, and get planning.” He softened his voice. “We'll get out there, and we'll find Frank, but if we rush off, with our fucking hearts leading us and not our heads, with no maps, not supplies, no fucking plan, we'll be sitting ducks for whichever Drac Scout finds us first.”

Ray raised a hand. “But Frank's headaches?”

Billie shook his head. “He's more useful to those fuckers alive than dead. They won't let him die.”

Ray inclined his head in acknowledgement, but his mournful glance to Mikey proved his true feelings. Gerard, meanwhile, his own agony etched on his face, nodded his own understanding.

With one last look over his shoulder at what was left of his guitar, Billie gestured back towards the camp.

“Let's go.”

As he marched on ahead, Ray, with a jerk of his head to Mikey, set off after him quickly; giving the two brothers a moment together.

Mikey placed a gentle hand on his big brother's shoulder.

“How you doing, Gee?”

Gerard let out a weary sigh. “How do you think, Mikey? But, I'll get there.”

“We'll find him.”

The red head nodded, a tiny smile on his lips. “Yeah.”

Mikey went to move off, but Gerard grabbed his hand. “Mikes, wait.”

The younger Way gazed at his brother nervously. He knew what was coming.

“Yeah?”

Gerard took a deep breath. “So, you and Ray?”

Mikey nodded. “Yeah.”

Gerard released Mikey, and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Is it real?”

Mikey gave him a withering look. “Yes, Gerard. I think I'm falling in love with him.” He paused, before asking, because he felt like maybe he _should_ ask; “Is that okay?”

Gerard flinched at Mikey's tone. “Look man, I didn't mean to pry, I was curious, that's all.” He brushed an uncomfortable hand through his hair. “It took me by surprise, seeing you two together like that-”

“Sorry,” Mikey replied, at once. “Never meant for you to find out that way-”

“It's fine,” Gerard insisted, this time cutting Mikey off mid sentence. “I'm happy for you, little brother. I love both you guys.”

Finally, Mikey broke out into a proud smile.

“Thanks Gee. Means a lot.”

Gerard could only smile back. Deep down, his thoughts had again turned to Frank, and how much he wanted to be near him right at that second, how much he wanted to hold him, and keep him safe. And how much he had let him down.

“He's gonna be just fine, dude.” Mikey whispered, reading Gerard's mind, as only he could. “You'll see.”

Gerard nodded quickly. He wanted Mikey to think that he was feeling a lot more hopeful than he actually was. If he could actually fool Mikey, perhaps he had a chance of convincing himself too.

“I'm okay,” he told his younger brother, and gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

Mikey frowned. “You're not okay, Gee;” He replied. “But you will be, once we get to Frank.”

Then Mikey was running to catch up with Billie and Ray, and Gerard, now grunting from the effort and pain it took to try and keep up with his brother, rediscovered one thing that had existed between them since they were kids. Something he had stupidly forgotten.

He couldn't hide a single thing from Mikey. 

XXX

When Frank awoke, the first thing he noticed, as always, was the battering ache in his head. Then, he realised he was lying on his stomach on a very cold and hard floor. He moaned, and tried to bring a comforting hand up to his forehead, but his arms wouldn't obey him. He groaned, tried again, and then it dawned on him: His arms were restrained behind his back. Scared, he tried to roll over, but didn't have the energy. He blinked twice, attempting to focus, but the room was spinning. Feeling sick, he made one more desperate effort to turn over on to his back, and this time he managed it. Pain washed over him, and he let out a weak cry. He heard a cold chuckle, a sound he recognised, to his dismay, and he tried to focus.

He quickly wished he hadn't.

Bert was standing over him, his arms crossed. And his smirk was crueller than ever.

Frank looked away. Of course. Bert had been working with the Draculoids. They'd grabbed him, and then Bert had drugged him. Frank concluded that he had been kidnapped, and taken away from the base. He was a prisoner. And Frank wondered what the hell Bert had planned for him.

Neither men spoke for a few moments until finally, Bert cleared his throat.

“How you feeling?” He placed his head on one side, gazing at Frank intently. “That drug is quite potent. Probably hasn't done your headaches much good.” His voice dripped with false sympathy. “Sorry about that.”

“Fuck you.”

Bert laughed. “You're not in a friendly mood, I get that.” He crouched down in front of Frank. “You brought this on yourself, you know, Frank. You had to be the big hero, going after Korse, trying to avenge your lost love. I assume you've already worked out that those headaches are killing you? You've got less than a hour, on my reckoning.” He shook his head. “It's gonna really fucking hurt, you know that?”

The Killjoy closed his eyes, trying to block the hated man out. “What do you want?” He asked, softly. “Why not just leave me to die?”

Bert rolled his eyes incredulously. “You're bait, Frank. C'mon, can't you figure any of this out on your own? You used to be so much smarter.”

Frank fought not to rise to the taunts. Ignoring Bert as best as he could, Frank tested his bonds, but he was held fast. Doing his best to focus despite the worsening pain, he whispered; “Why take me?”

Bert leaned in closer. “Because you're the one Gerard loves the most.”

Frank couldn't resist a little smirk. “Not any more. You fucked that up. None of the guys give a shit about me. Gerard hates my guts, remember?”

Bert chuckled. “You'd think he would, wouldn't you? That was the big plan. Destroy his faith in you, and break him completely. No one expected him to stand by you like he did. He shocked us.”

Frank felt a tiny spark of pride. “He's a better man than you'll ever be.”

“Whatever.” Bert shrugged. “I was told to get in between the two of you, to play with Gee's pretty little head a bit, make him trust me and separate him from you. It was harder than expected though. Until, yesterday, when I thought I'd managed it. Once we got to the base, I was supposed to grab Mikey and bring him here. Then, the plan was to fetch Gerard, leading him into a trap.” He leered. “It was decided that it would make more sense for it to be you instead of Mikey. That's why you're here, Frankie. And,” Bert paused, looking towards the door; “I gotta go now, and tell Gerard all about what has happened to you, and bring him here.”

“He won't come.” Frank ground out.

“He will,” Bert threw back. “Because he loves you, Sugar.”

Frank trembled slightly at that, but managed to contain his emotions. He regarded Bert hatefully, and then took a deep breath.

“And that is what fucks you off the most, isn't it?”

Bert blinked. “What?”

“The fact that he loves me. Do you know how pathetic you are? You had it all. And you threw it all away to team up with Better Living so you could fuck over Gerard. You sold out, betraying everyone who ever cared about you or looked up to you. Everything you ever were, everything you ever stood for, it's all gone now. And what do you have left? What was the _point_ , Bert? You're nothing.”

Bert was seething. Moving quickly, he backhanded Frank hard across the face, with as much venom as he could.

Frank's head whipped to one side from the force of the blow. He composed himself, spitting out blood on to the ground, and then turned to glare back up at Bert. He smiled through the pain determinedly, but the torturous agony in his head soon turned the smile into a grimace. 

“You think I'm scared of you?” Frank muttered. “I'm already dying, you stupid ass-hole. What else can you do to me?”

Bert's eyes narrowed for a second, and then the infamous smirk was back.

“Well, to start with;” He purred, “I could give you the drugs to stop the pain, prolong your life for a little longer. Give you more precious time with your sweetheart. Would you like that?”

Frank froze. He blinked at Bert, unsure how to react.

Bert smirked down at Frank, his eyebrows raised in amusement.

“Well, do you want the pills or not, smart guy?”

Frank cringed inwardly. He wouldn't beg the bastard; he wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

Bert chuckled coldly. “Aw, c'mon, Frankie. Why go all shy on me now?” He carefully slipped his hand in his pocket, his eyes' not leaving Frank's, and pulled out a small cylinder. Frank recognised it at once. It was the source of his salvation. The headaches were unbearable now; he knew he had no choice. He needed those tablets, needed the respite they brought him.

He knew, in sick realisation, that he was completely at Bert's mercy. And the bastard was revelling in that fact.

“You going to answer me, fucker?” Bert snarled, tossing the tub of pills into the air, and then catching them, taunting Frank with every movement. “Do you want your pills?”

 _“Yes!”_ Frank blurted out loudly. And then, more quietly, he added; “Please.”

Bert laughed. He regarded his captive carefully. "You know what, Iero? I've never taken much notice of you. Why would I, when I had Gerard Way at my side? But you're actually very pretty yourself, aren't you?” 

Frank looked up at him, wide eyed, trying to work out whether the question was rhetorical.

Before he had decided, Bert spoke again. “You're as pretty as your pathetic boyfriend is. And we all know the one thing pretty boys excel at above all others, don't we…?" 

Frank stared at him. What the fuck was this?

He soon got his answer.

Bert stood up straight, whistling jovially. He then slowly unfastened the zip on his trousers.

“You know what to do,” he told Frank, and winked at him.

Frank felt sick. Just as he'd begun to wonder if Bert would leave him be, he had now accepted that his ordeal was only just getting started. With a low whimper, he curled himself into a tight ball, trying to block out the all consuming pain from his latest mind numbing headache. His head would surely explode if he didn't get help soon, but he was no whore. He would not give in to Bert. He was worth more than this. He could only lay there, refusing to look at Bert, and wait for whatever was about to happen to him. 

Opening his eyes, Frank blanched as he saw the hated man saunter over to stand dead in front of him, his cock hanging out of the open fly of his trousers.

"If you want your pills,” Bert taunted; “You have to do something for me first. It's a fair trade.”

Frank turned his head to one side, breathing heavily through his nose. The other man sighed and reached out, grabbing Frank by the chin, forcing his head back. Frank refused to look at him, closing his eyes instead, concentrating on the ever present pain and trying to lose himself in the agony. If the darkness would only overwhelm him, perhaps he could escape this hell. One way or another.

“I wonder if you're as good as Gerard,” Bert whispered. “He always knew how to suck cock.”

"You bastard," Frank whispered. "You fucking lying bastard! Gee would never have touched you!" He grunted as he groggily attempted to pull himself to his feet, but with the dull ache in his temple making him nauseous, plus the fact he still had his wrists restrained behind his back, his effort was useless. He was knocked back down to the floor by a punch to the side of the head, and he nearly vomited in response. He slumped to the ground, but was quickly hauled back to his knees, where he swayed slightly as his head reeled.

Bert was grinning down at him. “That headache must be getting so bad now, pal.” He mocked. “Why put yourself through such torture unnecessarily? I'm offering you help here, out of the goodness of my heart. It would be rude to turn me down.” He slowly ran a finger down Frank's cheek, delighting in the misery his action and words caused. He leaned in closer, and hissed in Frank's ear. "Now, are you going to do as I asked, Frankie?"

Frank swallowed heavily, the heat rising in his cheeks. His tongue flickered out to wet his dry, swollen lips as his eyes trailed down the other man's body to his cock. He let out a long deep sigh, cast his eyes down to the ground, and then nodded slowly.

With a satisfied smile, Bert stepped closer, watching Frank expectantly. The brunette felt ashamed and disgusted as he was forced to shuffle forward on his knees, over towards Bert. He paused as he reached the other man, rocking back on his heels, whimpering from the pain, and finally looking up at him in desperation.

"Please," he pleaded, his voice cracking with shame. "I can't...” He hesitated, before adding, so weakly; “It hurts so bad, Bert. Please don't make me do this."

"You can and you will," Bert snapped, his eyes shining with triumph. He reached out and cupped the back of Frank's head, jerking him forward. Frank grimaced as his lips touched the top of his enemy's cock, tongue flickering out hesitantly to taste it. Screwing his face up, he took the tip of it into his mouth, sucking gently. Bert swore loudly at the contact, before taking control of the situation once more. He pushed hard into Frank's mouth, his cock brushing the back of his victim's throat.

Frank gagged, fighting the urge to vomit. Tears streamed down his face without his consent as he struggled to breathe, trying to pull back but the grip on his banging head was too strong for him to twist away from. He tried to relax as the other man brutally fucked his mouth. His insides twisted, Bert's cruel laughter, jeers and, worse of all, grunts ringing in his ears.

Frank had no sense of time, the assault just seemed to go on forever until, finally, he heard Bert letting out a triumphant shout, and then the hated man tensed, and suddenly cum shot down Frank's throat, burning him. Bert gripped Frank's head in an even more bruising hold, and snarled at him;

“Swallow.”

Frank tried to pull away, but he was helpless. He had no other choice but to obey, trying hard to keep the contents of his stomach as he forced down the foul tasting liquid.

When Bert at last relented and released him, Frank could only collapse to the floor, taking in big gulps of much needed air. Unable to prevent it a moment longer, he turned quickly and vomited on to the floor. When he was done, his throat stinging and hoarse, he looked toward Bert once more, and his insides churned again when he saw the look of utter disdain on the other man's face.

“What's wrong, Frankie?” Bert breathed. “I thought you liked the taste of cock.”

Frank blinked, trying to focus on something, anything, other than Bert. He was humiliated and shocked at how low he had sunk. He was nothing more than a whore now, Bert McCracken's personal plaything. It sickened him. He had been a proud Killjoy, Party Poison's lover and confidant. How the fuck had it all gone so wrong?

His gaze once more fell on the smirking man. _Bert_ was the reason this had all happened. He had lost Gerard, lost his world, because of this bastard. And he would very shortly lose his life too. His eyes narrowed as he regarded Bert, hate flowing through him in waves.

With a cold smile, Bert knelt down beside the stricken man.

“Look at you,” he hissed in Frank's ear. “Look at the state of you. You were Fun Ghoul. You were a Killjoy. What are you now? _Pathetic.”_

Frank trembled, trying to stop the tears but they came mercilessly, regardless of his wishes. He had no control. Not even of himself. Leaning ever closer, Bert held up a key for Frank to see and then undid the hand cuffs, releasing him. Wary of the bastard's intention, Frank could only stare.

“What’s the point of these?” Bert asked, dropping the handcuffs to the ground. “You can’t fight me, with or without the restraints. You’re so weak and feeble, Iero, a mouse of a man. And now, everyone will know the truth. Gerard's gonna know. You think he'd want you now? You think he'll ever want to look at you again? There’s no coming back this time, Frankie. You’re done. Even the great _Party Poison_ can’t save you now.”

Frank couldn’t help but sob. He whimpered and tried to turn his face away but Bert held him too tightly.

“Beaten.” Bert snarled and, to add insult to injury, he kicked Frank twice hard in the guts before rising once again, and headed toward the exit.

“Wait...” Frank groaned, trying to lift his head but unable to do so due to the now all controlling pain. “You promised...”

Bert paused, and turned back round, an eye brow raised questionably.

“Sorry?”

Frank whimpered, swallowing his pride. Bert was right; he didn’t want to die. Not without seeing Gerard one more time. The drugs Bert was able to give him would buy him those extra moments he craved. He'd see Gerard again. Time was all he needed.

Because, Frank would never stop believing in the man he loved. Even when he was at his lowest, even when it appeared Gerard had abandoned him, Frank had held on to his faith in the man he adored. 

Gerard would come for him. He would.

“Please,” he mumbled, fighting to force out each pained word. “The - pills. I – need – them... H-hurts...”

Bert looked puzzled, and then clicked his fingers.

“Oh fucking hell! That's right! Sorry about that, little buddy. Totally slipped my mind. A deal's a deal though, right? So, here you go.”

He walked forward, offering the small container to Frank with a sickening smile on his lips. Just as Frank reached up with a shaky hand to take the drugs from him, Bert suddenly pulled them away. 

The evil grin he then gave Frank made the other man shudder.

“Actually Frank, this is my own supply. I don't see why I should waste them on you. I'll be keeping them, I think.”

_“No...”_

He reached out and stroked Frank's hair. “Don't you worry, sugar. I'll be back very soon, and I'll have Gerard with me. I'll try and hurry for you, yeah?”

Using the last of his strength, Frank grasped hold of Bert's wrist and pulled him closer. _“Leave – him – alone....”_

Bert grimaced. “Sorry Frank, can't do that. You just rest there, yeah? I'll be back soon.” He patted the other man on his dark head. “Don't you go and die on me now, you hear?” Another cold smirk. “I want you to see how this ends.”

And, with that, Bert sauntered out of the room, not bothering to look back. Frank registered that he barked instructions to the Draculoids outside, but he couldn't hear, or focus, on anything that was said.

And then, Frank was alone.

The fallen Killjoy moaned pitifully. He went to try and call out after Bert once more, but he was just in too much agony. He collapsed onto the ground once more, although, this time, he didn't move again.

Very quickly, that ever present darkness finally embraced him, and he welcomed it gratefully.

XXX

The Killjoys and Billie had been in a heated discussion with Doctor Death and Show Pony for the what felt like forever, and Gerard was at his wits end. He knew, deep down, that the delay was necessary; that the Doc had already sent out word to other camps nearby that a Killjoy had been kidnapped. The Doc was also due to broadcast in a few minutes and his cryptic message to all rebels would be clear: “Find Fun Ghoul.” Meanwhile, the Killjoys, Billie and a group of volunteers, including Gareth and Luka, would form parties to search the surrounding zones. It was a dangerous mission for them all, the area was rife with Draculoid and Scarecrow activity, but that didn't stop these men, women and children. They saw the Killjoys as heroes, and if one needed their help, then they would answer the call. It was the kind of attitude that Gerard had begun to believe no longer existed. The attitude Korse would have had him believed had been lost. Thankfully, he had been wrong.

“Okay,” the Doc was addressing them; “Poison, Kobra and Jet Star, you will go with Billie and take the edge of Zone Two. Keep close together and do not take any risks.” He looked directly at Gerard. “That means you.” He told him. “As far as we know, you are still their main target, Poison.”

Gerard nodded impatiently. He'd be careful, be a good little boy and stick to the plan. If he could just get on with it.

“Let’s head out there,” Billie snapped. “We can pick up supplies on the way out of the main entrance.” He paused at the door, looking back at the Doc. “Any news from the team who left earlier today for Zone Three?” He enquired. “They should have been back by now, right?”

Death eyed him cautiously. “There's been no word as yet.”

A moment's panic flashed across Billie's face. But then, it was gone.

“Right,” he replied, as if he didn't have a care in the world. Then, to the Killjoys, he barked; “Let’s go.”

As they hurried toward the exit, suddenly Gerard gasped loudly, and, grabbed at his middle, leaning over, agony etched onto his face. Before he knew it, he was on the ground, doubled over in pain. Mikey stopped, and was at his brother's side in an instant.

“Gee, what’s wrong?”

Gerard let out a low moan. “Too much running, Mikey;” he managed, painfully. “Broken ribs, beatings, rapes,” he let out a low, cold chuckle; “All coming back to haunt me at the worst possible fucking moment. Gotta rest, don't think I can manage it...”

Billie and Ray were soon beside Gerard and Mikey. “He can't go out there like this,” Billie announced.

“I just need a quick rest,” the Killjoy argued. “You can't leave me behind, not on this.”

Billie exchanged glances with the Doc, Ray and Mikey. “We can't wait,” he told Gerard, as kindly as he could. “ _Frank_ can't wait, Gerard.”

Gerard closed his eyes tightly, utterly devastated.

“I'll stay with him,” Mikey snapped.

Ray clenched his fists. The situation was turning more hopeless by the second.

“We need you, Kobra,” Ray told him, and then, more quietly. “I need you with me on this.”

Mikey frowned. “Gerard needs me too, doesn't he?”

A new voice piped up.

“It's just a suggestion, but why don't I stay with him? I'm a trained medic, I can give him a drug that will have him fighting fit in no time, albeit temporarily. Give me a communicator and we'll follow after you as soon as he's up to it.” They all turned as one to look at Gareth, who was standing to one side, his big brown eyes hopeful. “Once the drugs get into his system, it'll be as little as five minutes before he's able to join you. Won't take long.”

Billie placed his head on one side, reached down, and ruffled Gerard's hair. “Does that sound good to you? You okay if Gareth stays with you and fixes you up? You join us when you're ready?”

Gerard, still in a horrendous amount of pain, nodded awkwardly.

Billie slapped him on the back, then held up a hand, and gave Gerard an apologetic smile when the other man cursed in pain. With a gesture to Ray and Mikey, who gave Gerard one last long concerned look, clearly unhappy to be leaving him behind, Billie quickly led them from the room.

Death Defying watched them go, his face grim, and then turned back to Gerard and the young rebel. “You know what drugs to give him, Gareth?”

“Yeah boss,” the other man replied. “You gave me a general supply of medicines when Frank first disappeared. I know what I'm doing. You'd better get over to the Medi-Centre, get things ready.”

The Doc nodded. He gave Gareth a knowing look. “Use the Communicator if you need to. You'll be able to contact the others with it.” His voice became stern. “ _Transporter_ level, Gareth. Understand?”

“Yes sir.”

Defying took his leave then, smiling reassuringly at Gerard as he disappeared out of the door.

Gareth sat beside Gerard then, holding out two small pills. Gerard eyed them uncertainly.

“Are those-” He began, but Gareth interjected.

“BL/I? Yeah, but they'll make you better. They’ve been checked and double checked by our best people for side effects. It's cool.”

Gerard took the pills, but held them in the palm of his hand, looking down at them. He then glanced up at Gareth, unable to decide what to do.

The young man took Gerard's other hand. “I know it's hard, but you can trust me.”

Still, Gerard wavered. But, in the end, he knew he had little choice. He couldn't take the pain a second longer. Closing his eyes tightly, he popped the pills into his mouth, threw his head back and swallowed. When he opened his eyes again, he saw Gareth was watching him, nodding approvingly.

“Give them a minute,” he said. “Then you'll be as right as rain.”

Gerard smiled, a spark of memory hitting him. That phrase had been a very British saying, the UK was somewhere he had once loved, and hearing those words again was a pleasant reminder.

He regarded Gareth.

“Were you from England, I can't tell from your accent-”

“I've pretty much lost it since the bombs fell,” he agreed. “Actually, I was Welsh, once upon a time.”

The Killjoy grinned at that. “Wales was a lovely place.”

The smile faded from Gareth's face and he looked down. “Yep,” he said, softly. He quickly changed the subject. “I guess you toured there, back in the day.”

Gerard nodded. “Loads of times,” he relied. “The Welsh people were awesome.”

Again, there was an uncomfortable silence. Gerard of course understood why. Discussing home was incredibly hard for _him_ ; why should it be any different for Gareth? Everyone had lost so much; everyone had a story to tell. Suddenly, Gerard found himself curious to know Gareth's.

“So,” he began, leaning against the wall behind him. “What did you do, before the world ended?”

Gareth chuckled. He appreciated how direct the Killjoy leader was.

“Actually,” Gareth replied, “I was a footballer.”

Gerard blinked. “Football?”

Another little chuckle. “Well, you'd have called it soccer, I suppose.”

Gerard nodded. “Ah, I guess that makes more sense, what with you coming from Wales!” He paused, as he felt the warmth from the drugs spreading through his body, washing the pain away. He could already feel the strength returning. He'd be ready to head off soon. He looked back at Gareth quickly. “Did you play for a big team?”

Gareth shrugged. “Yeah. Tottenham Hotspur. We were,” he jerked his head; “Fucking great, now you mention it.”

Gerard laughed. Gareth grinned, got to his feet, and hurling Gerard up beside him.

“Time to go find Fun Ghoul. You Killjoys aren't right when one of you is missing.”

“No,” Gerard stated; “We're not.”

“I'm like that about Luka.”

“Are you and him-?”

Gareth waved away the question. “Oh no, not like that. He was my team mate at Tottenham;” he stared past Gerard, into space. “Spurs, that’s what our team nickname was. Anyway, he's my best mate, my brother in all but blood. I'd be lost without him.”

Gerard nodded. He knew that feeling well.

“I've always felt like that about Ray and Frank. Mikey, obviously, too. But all four of us always had such a massive connection, even back in the My Chem days-” He paused, surprised at himself. He hadn't used the shortened version of his old band's name for so long. But suddenly, it seemed like the right thing to do.

As he and Gareth moved to the door, as quickly as they could with Gerard still somewhat groggy, the Killjoy was still talking happily.

“I don't know what the moment was the relationship between Frank and I changed; but-”

“Gerard.”

Gerard broke off abruptly. Both men turned to stare toward the doorway, and they reacted in shock when they saw Bert, hovering just outside. Gerard threw Gareth a deadly look, and Gareth shook his head desperately. This was definitely not the situation either one of them had expected. The Killjoy had not moved, he seemed rooted to the spot, simply gazing, stupidly, at Bert. The young rebel could only stand there and wait for one of the former musicians to make his move. He stepped behind Gerard, ready to support him if he were needed. 

He didn't have to wait long.

Bert edged his way carefully into the room, a nervous smile on his lips. He addressed only Gerard, apparently not even noticing that Gareth was there too.

“Gerard, I know you don't want to see me.”

“Get the fuck out,” the Killjoy snarled. “Better Living scum.”

Bert winced. “Please, Gee. You've got it all wrong, I swear. I'm no fucking spy! I'm so sorry for what happened earlier. I fucking hate myself. Just give me a chance to-”

He didn't even get the opportunity to finish his sentence. Swearing furiously, Gerard crossed the room in three quick strides, grabbed Bert by his shirt, shoved him backwards against the wall, and placed his ray gun against the other man's chin. He narrowed his eyes, and his finger covered the trigger. Gareth stayed perfectly silent, not wanting to interrupt what was playing out before his eyes. It wasn't his place to stop Gerard, and he was pretty damn certain he wouldn't be able to stop him even if he tried. He knew what Bert had done, knew enough anyway, to know that Gerard would do exactly what he needed to do, and Gareth could only stand there and watch.

Bert was staring at Gerard, breathing loudly, his eyes wide. Gerard was desperate, he could see that. Capable of anything. The former Used front man had not expected this. He writhed in Gerard's grip, truly scared by this turn of events.

“You'll regret this.” Bert whispered. “I came here to help you, you stupid bastard.”

Gerard glared. “What I regret is not blasting your head off before when I had the chance.” He leaned in closer. “I know you've lied from the beginning, you fucking traitor, just looking at you makes me sick.” He spat on the ground to emphasise his point. “You tried to fucking rape me. You said you were my friend and then you-” He broke off, taking a second to compose himself, before asking: “What did you do to Frank?”

Bert wanted to laugh. 

_'I fucked your little boyfriend's mouth as he sobbed his eyes out. I'm sure he was thinking of you the whole time.'_

Instead, he replied, indignantly; “I didn't touch him!”

Gerard trembled.

 _“Bullshit!_ You took him. You're working with _them._ ” His gun hand trembled. “You killed Lindsey, didn't you? Or you made it happen, anyway. You are a piece of shit, and I should never have listened to you.”

Bert took a deep breath. Inwardly, he was fuming. He wanted to rip Gerard's head off. But, he had to keep the pretence going. He had to make Gerard at least begin to doubt where his true loyalties actually lay. “Look,” he began; “I'm not working for BL/I. How can you think that, after what they did to me, to my boys?”

Gerard hesitated.

Bert saw his chance. He lowered his voice. “After what happened between us, I took the hint and tried to leave the base. I saw Frank, and I talked to him. Things did get heated. I was gonna walk away but he came at me with Armstrong's fucking guitar! He wielded it like it was some shitting axe! He swung it at my head; I ducked, and it hit a wall instead. It was smashed to pieces. Frank was coming at me again, I wanted none of it, so I walked away, I swear!”

“You walked away from a fight with a dying man? Do you think I'm that fucking stupid?” Gerard tightened his hold on Bert's shirt. “You're a no-good, fucking liar.”

“I'm not lying! I swear to you! Gerard, listen! I need to tell you something!” Bert's desperation was clear as he struggled against Gerard's grip on him. “Let me go, and I'll fucking tell you what I know!”

“I don't think so.”

“Seriously, it's hard to think when you have a gun pressed against your chin by a crazy man wanting to kill you.” Bert said, carefully. “Killing a Drac, or even a 'Crow, is very different to killing a defenceless man.” He paused. “A friend...”

Gerard scoffed. “You're no friend of mine.” He leaned in closer. “And I pointed a gun at Frank, remember? I love him, and in that moment, I'd have killed him because, in that crazy second, I thought he'd betrayed me. Do you seriously think I wouldn't kill a worthless loser like you in a heartbeat?”

Bert gritted his teeth. He had to see this lie through. He truly anticipated that Gerard would shoot him, and think nothing of it, but he had to make _Gerard_ believe he thought differently. “I know you're not a murderer, Gerard. Not deep down. You wouldn't be able to live with yourself if you pulled that trigger...”

“I'd give it a good go.”

Bert trembled. “And you do also _want_ to find Frank, I'm assuming?”

That stung. Gerard glowered.

“Don't play fucking games with me, McCracken!”

Very carefully, and not taking his eyes off of Gerard, Bert knew he had to take a risk. He moved his arm, reached out, and grasped the barrel of the gun still touching his flesh. He then, seeing Gerard's indecision, pushed the gun gently to one side.

“I want to help you,” Bert told him, pointedly. “And Frank too. But you have to trust me.”

Gerard closed his eyes momentarily. He hated Bert; and he didn't trust him as far as he could throw him, but he was also the last person to see Frank at the base. He had no alternative. With a heavy heart, he lowered his gun, and then stepped away. Bert stood there, eyeing Gerard. And then, he nodded appreciatively.

“Thank you.”

“Shut up,” Gerard spat back. “And tell me what you know about Frank.”

For the first time, Bert looked toward Gareth. He frowned. “Maybe this guy should go fetch Mikey and Ray-”

Gareth shook his head quickly. “I've got my orders from the Doc, so I'll be staying with Party Poison.” He eyed Bert suspiciously. “If it's all the same to you.”

Bert shrugged. “Whatever.” His eyes then met Gerard's once more, and he cleared his throat, beginning to tell the story that he had so carefully prepared.

“Like I said,” he started, his words coming out in a rush; “After Frank came at me, I walked away. I didn't really want to die, and Frank seemed pretty pissed off. I got some way clear, and then heard Frank yell. I ran back, keeping out of sight, and saw him being dragged away unconscious by a patrol of Dracs. We were some way away from the base, no one else was nearby and there were too many of the fuckers for me to take on alone. So, I followed them.” Bert paused, peering at Gerard uncertainly. Was he buying it?

Gerard, meanwhile, felt sick. All he could think about was Frank, alone and in BL/I's hands again. He had to get to him, had to make up for the damage he'd done. Whatever it took, Gerard would save Frank. 

He gestured for Bert to continue impatiently. Bert nodded, his confidence growing as he continued his tall tale.

“They've got him in a small camp, a couple of miles from here. Well out of sight and,” he paused, shaking his sadly, before, for the added effect, he ended his speech with: “He's in a fucking bad way, man. We gotta hurry.”

Gerard flinched. He grabbed Bert's arm, and squeezed. “Take me to him,” he urged, desperate. “Please.”

Gareth stepped forward. “We should go see the Doc, and find Billie, Mikey and Ray. We need to tell someone about this before we go rushing into some trap.” His eyes met Bert's. “Or something.”

Bert regarded the younger man with disdain. “If we wait, they could move Frank, and he'll be as good as lost to us.” His gaze bored into Gerard's. “Or, he'll be dead anyway. The chip-”

“He doesn't have his pills,” Gerard whispered.

“Then he doesn't have long,” Bert confirmed. “Even more important that we leave right now.”

Gerard thought for a second. All he could see was Frank in his mind’s eye. Frank suffering. What choice did he have? He nodded, grimly.

“I'll come,” Gareth announced, at once.

Bert threw a unimpressed look at him. “I don't think so, son-”

Gareth glowered back. “If we get to Frank in time, we can still save him.” He addressed Gerard, turning his back on Bert. “I told you, I'm trained in medical aid, Gerard. We find Frank, then I can administer the drug that will stabilise his condition, until we can get him to the Doctors.”

Bert actually scoffed. “How you gonna get him to the Medi-Centre?”

“It’s a powerful drug, it will keep him alive.” Gareth threw back. “And we have our ways of getting places in a hurry.” His eyes narrowed. “BL/I aren't the only ones with good technology.”

“You mean, _stolen_ technology?” Bert snapped.

“Does it matter?”

“Enough!” Gerard exclaimed. “Frank is out there dying. What the fuck is wrong with you two?”

They didn't speak again, but merely glared daggers at each other.

Gerard moved to the door, and waved at the others to follow him. Bert joined him, and then said, quietly, “I know a quick way out of the base, Gee. If we go past the main guards, we'll attract attention and that will waste time. You cool with that?”

Gerard watched him. He didn't like it, every instinct was telling him not to trust Bert but he couldn't listen to them this time. Bert knew where Frank was, and Bert had been a good man once. He had just been through a lot of shit. Maybe there was a way back. Gerard had to believe that.

He nodded at Bert, and the man darted out of the door, Gerard following behind him closely, and with Gareth in hot pursuit.

As the three men ran, none of them noticed the small figure sneaking out from behind the wall, and running along, close behind them, but keeping expertly out of sight. Grace didn't know where she was being led to, or why, but she knew she had to keep up with the three men in front of her. 

Maybe, where ever he was going, Gerard might just need her help. She would not let him down. 

XXX

Gerard hurried after Bert, Gareth a few paces behind the others. They had made their way out of the base, using a “secret” way, according to Bert, that only a few residents of the Base were aware of, for “security” reasons. They had got to a dark, damp tunnel and had made their way quickly through, emerging the other side, shielding their eyes from the deadly rays of the sun. They had rushed then, through the desert, each man grabbing for their own mask. Gerard was proud to see Gareth's was yellow, very much like his own.

No one had seen them leave. But then, that had been the plan. They had attempted to communicate with Billie and the other Killjoys, to advise them of the recent developments, but they had been unable to find a signal.

Finally, they arrived at a small, derelict building. Gerard wondered if it had once been a warehouse. Before he had the chance to question Bert, two Dracs exited the building. Bert moved into action at once, shooting both of the Draculoids in the chest, and cutting them down before they even knew they had been under attack. Bert had then waved Gerard and Gareth on, gesturing for them to go on in. As Gerard had passed Bert, the former Used front man had hissed; “I'll keep an eye out, just go get him.”

Though feeling nothing but hate for Bert, Gerard found himself running forward at his words, the energy the drugs had allowed him still flowing through his veins. Gareth rushed to catch up with Gerard, and grabbed his arm, pulling him back.

“Slow down!” The young Welshman snapped. 

“What?” Gerard threw back.

“I don't like this. It's too easy.”

Gerard didn't want to think about that. He couldn’t think about it. Not when he was so close. Ignoring Gareth, and pulling free of his hold, Gerard tore through the doorway in front of him, and stopped dead.

Frank was lying in the middle of the room. He looked so small, so broken. And he wasn't moving. He looked sound asleep.

_Or..._

Gerard dived forward, grabbing for Frank's hand, trying his utmost to get a response from him.

“Frank, can you hear me? It's me, it's Gerard, I'm here. Frank? Answer me! _Frank!”_

Gerard, tears streaming unashamedly down his face, looked up at Gareth in desperation.

“Please!” He cried. “He's not breathing.”

Gareth was beside him in an instant. Quickly, but carefully, he pulled out the injection needle and glass tube that the Doc had given him. He prepared it, calmly, and then hurriedly injected the mixture into Frank's arm, leaning back then to study the Killjoy closely. He put his hand to Frank's forehead, and then placed his head against his chest, listening intently. Gareth frowned. There was no sign. Nothing.

Gerard looked from one man to the other, anguished, waiting for any reaction. 

“Well?” He demanded, impatiently.

Gareth grimaced, and then felt for Frank's pulse once more. 

His delighted reaction told Gerard everything he needed to know.

“He's alive,” Gareth breathed. “I've got a heartbeat.”

“Will he wake up?”

“I don't know.” 

Gerard rounded on Gareth. “What fucking good is that?”

Gareth glared back at the anguished man, ready to defend himself if need be, but then Frank let out a tiny moan, barely audible but it was there. He was a fighter, no doubt about it. And he was coming round.

Gerard was beside Frank in a second. “Frankie, it's Gerard. I'm here, babe. Can you hear me?”

The brunette whimpered once more, and moved slightly.

Then, very carefully, he opened his eyes, blinked and then sensed he was not alone so recoiled, his eyes wide and fearful.

Gerard reached out for him hesitantly. “Frank, it's okay. You're fine. It's me.”

The smaller man shook his head, as if he couldn't believe his eyes. Then, he croaked; “Gerard?”

Gerard could have screamed with relief.

“Yeah, Sugar, that's it! Look at me babe, I'm right here. I'm not leaving you ever again, Frankie-”

An air of calm seemed to wash over Frank, and he closed his eyes again, letting out a low, contented sigh. “Okay now... okay to go...”

Gerard pulled Frank into his arms immediately, and held him tightly, stroking his hair gently. “You're not going anywhere, you hear me? You're gonna be okay, Frankie.” He told him. It was a promise. “I swear to you. I'm gonna fix this.”

Frank shook his head slightly. “Dyin' Gee...”

“No!” Gerard stormed, raising his voice in his anger. “You are not gonna fucking die! I can save you, we can fix you. We just gotta get you out of here.”

“Can't...” Frank managed, “Won't... let... us... go...”

Gerard was attempting to heave Frank up, and Gareth had joined him at Frank's side again, trying to help. “The Dracs guarding you are dead, Frank. It's okay...”

Frank grabbed at Gerard's wrist weakly.

“Not Dracs... They didn't do this...”

Gerard stopped, his brow furrowed in confusion. Deep within him, panic swirled. One look at Gareth showed Gerard that the younger man was equally as concerned. 

“Who did this to you?” Gerard whispered to Frank, already holding his breath. _'Please don't let it be who I think it is...'_

 _“Bert,”_ Frank moaned, and then lay back in Gerard's arms, exhausted.

Gerard stopped dead, quickly exchanging horrified looks with Gareth. They both slowly turned as one to look toward the exit, and saw Bert standing in the door way, his eyes locked on Gerard, an almost manic grin plastered on his face.

“Busted.” He smirked.

Gareth moved first. Before Bert and Gerard could even react, he had grabbed Frank's wrist. He winked when the Killjoy looked up at him, in pained confusion. Suddenly, all hell broke loose. Gerard, furious, had run at Bert, and had been left screaming when he had been hit by a blast to his arm. Gareth had whirled round, his own gun in his hand, only to find himself being struck viciously across the face. He fell down, with a gasp. He recovered quickly, looked up and paled when he was greeted with the sight of Bert holding Gerard from behind, the Killjoy leaders own ray gun placed against his head. 

He stayed perfectly still, watching Bert carefully.

“Take it easy,” he urged.

Bert laughed. “Drop the gun, pal.” He retorted. “And back up against the wall.”

Taking one look at Gerard, Gareth quickly came to realise he had no choice. He allowed his gun to fall to the ground, and then raised his hands in surrender. Bert scoffed, and then threw Gerard toward the wall, so he was side by side with Gareth. 

Bert stepped forward, his eyes on Frank's trembling form. He then looked up at Gerard, and smirked.

“This is gonna be fun.”

“Bert,” Gerard began, as calmly as he could muster, keeping one eye on Frank. “Whatever you-”

“Shut the fuck up, Gerard.” Bert snapped. “For once in your fucking life, just keep it shut.”

The traitor's attention switched to the young rebel then, who was watching him with fear-filled eyes. “Kid, I don't think I even asked. What's your name again?”

The boy frowned. He glanced at Gerard, and then replied, his voice quivering. “Gareth.”

“Okay.” Bert nodded. “Sorry, Gareth.”

He took aim, and fired.

Gareth didn't have a chance. The blast struck him straight between the eyes. He was dead before he hit the ground. His body lay there, slumped at an awkward angle, his eyes open and unseeing.

Better Living Industries had claimed yet another victim.

Gerard stared at Bert, wide eyed and trembling, with anger more than fear. Of course he'd known not to trust Bert, but what choice had he had? All he cared about was Frank. And now, that selfishness had cost them another innocent life. A good man who had believed in the Killjoys and had wanted to help. He then stormed forward, not sure what he intended, just to hurt Bert, the cold blooded killer, in any way he could. Bert was ready for him though. As Gerard advanced, crazed, he swung a misguided punch at his foe, but Bert grabbed his arm easily, and twisted it. Gerard cried out, causing Frank, trying desperately to push himself into a kneeling position, to whimper in fear. Bert then shoved Gerard backwards, until he was pining the other man against the wall, his body pressed up against the struggling red head's. 

“Come on in boys,” Bert called, and to Gerard's horror, the same two Dracs that Bert had ghosted rushed into the room, grabbing at the helpless Frank, and dragging him up, holding him tightly.

“Get your hands off of him!” Gerard snapped, only for Bert to bury his fist into Gerard's gut, causing him to cry out in pain.

Once he had recovered, Gerard found himself once again pined, powerless, to the wall.

“I gotta tell you, Gee;” Bert taunted as he gripped Gerard's face roughly, forcing the other man to look at him. “Even for you; you've been really fucking stupid.”

TBC


	23. Chapter 23

Bert took a lazy drag on his cigarette, and leaned back against the wall, smirking cruelly at Gerard and Frank. They were both now being held firmly by their Drac captors, Frank still on his knees on the ground, while Gerard remained pinned against the wall. Bert had called over a Drac to hold Gerard, while he had begun to pace the room, a disturbing, triumphant smile on his face. As both of the Killjoys glared at him in disgust, struggling in vain against the iron grips, Bert chuckled.

“So,” he exclaimed, clapping his hands, “Why don't you boys tell me how fucking pathetic you feel right now?” He grinned at Gerard. “Especially you, Gee. You actually trusted me again, didn't you? _Stupid_ fucking bastard!”

Gerard glowered at him, hatred radiating from him in waves. “And you're an _ugly_ fucking bastard. We're stupid, but still prettier than you.” He knew his words were incensing Bert, and he didn't care. Whatever the ass-hole did to him now, Gerard would fight with everything he had. He would protect Frank, even with his last breath. He winked at Bert. “My point is, traitor, I'm still glad we're _us,_ and not _you,_ you fucking piece of shit.”

Bert scowled, flicked his cigarette aside, and marched straight up to Gerard, who tensed as the other man approached. Bert then struck him across the face, whipping Gerard's face harshly to one side. The Killjoy took a moment to compose himself, and then looked back at Bert, his eyes flashing.

“Didn't you have a comeback, Bert?” Gerard hissed.

Bert gripped Gerard's chin, and squeezed. “Wanna antagonise me, right now, Gee?” He got right into his face, so close that Gerard could smell the nicotine on his breath, and it made him grimace. “You sure that’s a smart idea?”

Gerard gritted his teeth. “I'm not afraid of you, Bert.”

Bert grinned coldly. He tossed the cigarette aside, and then reached out, caressing Gerard's cheek with his tobacco stained fingers. 

“Oh yes?”

Frank had seen enough. “Get the fuck away from him,” he moaned, his voice strained and weak; “You ass-hole!”

Bert whirled around, his attention suddenly focused on Frank. “Better keep schtum, Frankie;” he purred. “Don't want to do any more damage to that chip in your head now, do you?” He raised an eyebrow. “Of course, you're a dead man walking, so what worse could happen to you, right?”

Frank was watching him, his heart sinking. He knew what Bert was getting at, knew the bastard was very aware he could hurt both Gerard and Frank even more by telling the red head about what had occurred between Bert and Frank earlier that day. Frank didn't want Gerard to know. He didn't want his boyfriend knowing just what Frank had been reduced to.

So, he gave in, casting his eyes to the ground, and keeping silent.

Bert laughed loudly. “Good choice, Frank;” He taunted. “Just sit there and die quietly.”

“You're trash, Bert;” Gerard snapped. “Always have been, always will be.”

Bert pursed his lips together, and regarded Gerard. “Is that right?”

“You never did mean a fucking thing to me.”

That hit home. Bert's triumphant smile faltered, his face darkened, and he advanced on Gerard quickly, looking as if he was ready to kill. Just as he reached out for the other man, he suddenly froze. He cupped a hand behind his ear, and listened intently. Then, he grinned, his eyes' meeting Gerard's.

The two Killjoys exchanged worried glances. This didn't look good.

“Think you're a tough guy, Gee?” Bert whispered. “Let’s find out, shall we?”

At that moment, Korse strolled purposely into the room.

Gerard flinched, pressing his back further against the wall. Bert was still watching him, still smiling. Frank let out a low moan, and tried to push against the hands holding him, trying to get to his boyfriend, but it was helpless. Frank could offer Gerard no comfort. All he could do was kneel there, and watch.

The exterminator stood in the centre of the room, his hands clasped behind his back, his cold gaze sweeping across the room. He looked from one man to the next, his gaze lingering on Gerard for a few seconds longer than the others. Then, he smiled at Bert.

“Well done, Mr McCracken. All according to plan.”

Gerard's eyes narrowed as he glared at Bert. “You _traitor-”_

Bert rolled his eyes. “Change the fucking record, Gee. You brought this on yourself, for being such a fucking retard.”

Korse was chuckling. He crossed the room quickly, until he was directly in front of Gerard. Gerard squirmed as Korse drew nearer, trying to edge his way ever further back into the wall.

Frank moaned, trying to lift his head. He could feel Gareth's drugs beginning to take hold, the pain was duller now, and his strength was beginning to return to him. He looked up at Korse, saw him moving towards his boyfriend, and easily read Gerard's fear.

“Don't go near him!” He managed, his voice still raspy. “You fucking-”

A swift smack to the back of his head by one of his Draculoid captors cut Frank off swiftly.

Korse eyed Frank with disdain. “Watch your mouth, please Fun Ghoul. And let the grownups talk.”

“He's not gonna die,” Gerard hissed, at once.

Korse returned his attention to the Killjoy leader, with a look of amusement. 

“Is that right? Do you know what I think, Poison?”

“I don't give a shit what you think.”

“You are too trusting, my little Killjoy,” Korse taunted. “It's your greatness weakness, how you always want to see the best in people.” He glanced at Bert. “Even when there is no good to find.”

Bert smirked. “He believed everything I told him,” he boasted. “I fucking told you he would!”

“It's Frank I'd do anything for.” Gerard said, softly, not making eye contact with Korse. “Even if that meant being led into an ambush by a piece of shit like you, Bert.”

Korse grinned. “So, you knew?”

Gerard finally met Korse's gaze. “That I was walking into a trap? That Bert was on your side? Of course I fucking knew. But I'd let Frank down, and he means more to me than either one of you bastards will ever understand.”

The Exterminator was listening intently. He smirked at Gerard, and then looked over at Frank, still slumped in his Drac captors’ arms. Tears were cascading down the smaller Killjoys face, and his shoulders were trembling from the force of his sobs. Korse then leaned into Gerard, took hold of the back of his head, and held him still. He revelled as the younger man squirmed in his grip.

“I was wrong,” Korse purred. “Your faith in your friends is not your greatest weakness.” He shoved Gerard forward then, toward Frank, but holding him slightly back, knowing that Gerard being so close to Frank, but unable to actually get to him, would be driving the Killjoy mad. “He is.”

Gerard and Frank stared at each other, both struggling to get to the other man, but neither being able to break free. Gerard shook his head desperately, trying to send a silent message to his lover. He didn't want Frank to fight back, and have him drawing Korse's attention any more than necessary. All Gerard wanted to do was to protect Frank. And he would do that, no matter what it took.

“Can you help him?” Gerard muttered, to Korse. “Can you cure Frank?”

Korse was taken aback by the question. “Help?” He repeated. “You are actually asking me to spare your boyfriend's life? The man who attempted to take mine so very recently?”

Gerard went red. “He's not the one you want,” he continued. “I am.”

Korse chuckled. “Yes, and I have you exactly where I want you. Why should I bother keeping Iero alive?”

There was a momentary silence. Even Bert was watching Gerard and Korse now, waiting for Gerard's reply.

Finally, he spoke again. And the desperation was clear in his voice.

“Because I'll do anything you want.”

At that, Korse laughed loudly. He swung Gerard round, so that the other man was now facing him, and leaned right into his face, showering him with spittle.

“Do you really think you won't, anyway?” Still smirking at Gerard, enjoying the other man's shame, Korse looked back over at Bert. “He's already given me the honour of gifting me with a private concert.”

Bert laughed at that. “Lucky you.”

Gerard glanced at the ground.

Frank glared daggers at Korse. “Leave him the fuck alone!”

Ignoring Frank, Korse continued on. “I was disappointed, if I'm honest. I expected so much more, from a famous rock star.”

Bert's look was of pure contempt. “His voice was always an...” a pause... “acquired taste, Exterminator.”

“Your face was an acquired taste!” Frank shot at him. His tears had dried up, his eyes were flaming, and he looked ready to kill.

Korse was highly amused. “I assumed the inability to reach the notes, and a definite croakiness in his voice, was due to his lack of recent practice. Did I assume wrong?”

“He's always sounded shit, Sir;” Bert replied, with a cruel shrug. “His audiences were known to throw bottles and shit at him on occasion, to get him off the stage.”

“Fucking shut your mouth, Bert,” Frank raged. “Just shut the fuck up!”

Gerard was standing perfectly still, his eyes fixated on a spot on the ground. His cheeks were burning red, and he was visibly trying to hold back tears. To be taunted about the past, with Frank in the room, it was too much for him. My Chemical Romance was an escape route, to look back into the past and remember when everything was so much better, before the bombs. Before Korse. And now, memories of those times were being poisoned against him too. And this time, Frank was there to witness his humiliation. He felt ashamed, and all the more violated. Everything was being destroyed, every little part of him. 

What he would give to turn the clock back. To be in that band again, and not have to be Party Poison any longer. He knew he was on the verge of breaking, knew that was Korse’s aim, and he had to hold on, not only for himself but also for Frank. Frank still believed in him. He could not let him down.

Korse’s cold chuckle brought he painfully back to the present, and he saw that the Exterminator was grinning evilly at a fuming Frank. “The truth is hard to hear, isn't it, Ghoul?” The hated man mocked.

Before Frank could reply with the foul-mouthed tirade he had planned, Bert spoke again.

“Which song was it he tortured you with, Sir?”

Korse shrugged. “I have no idea.” He gave Bert an unimpressed glance. “All such music is banned in the City, Robert, as you well know. Thankfully.” He looked at Gerard. “Answer the question, Rock star. What song was it?”

Gerard didn't speak. He didn't even react to Korse's question.

Korse snarled, grabbed Gerard by the hair, and flung his head back. Then, to Gerard's horror, he reached out and grasped his manhood through his pants. The Killjoy gasped, and writhed in his hold.

“I asked you a question!” Korse spat.

“Get off him,” Frank cried, once again being restrained by the Dracs holding him back. “Just stop it!”

Gerard whimpered in distress, causing Korse to tighten his grip.

“Answer me!”

 _“Ghost of You!”_ Gerard yelled. “Stop this!” He desperately fought back the tears that were threatening to spill. “Why can't you just leave us alone?”

Korse raised an eyebrow, released him, and smirked. “Thank you, Gerard.”

“Ghost of You?” Bert echoed, clasping his hands together. “Ah, that's actually quite a decent song! For them, anyway.” He strode over to Korse to stand beside him, in front of Gerard. “You were fortunate, Exterminator. At least he sang you a track before his shit band sold out-”

“FUCK YOU!” Frank exploded.

Bert rounded on the brunette. “Feeling better, are we? Whatever that British bastard gave you,” he snapped, jerking his head toward Gareth's forgotten, lifeless form; “It worked!”

“You're pathetic, Bert!” Frank hissed at him. “Do you realise that? You are a fucking joke. You're jealous. The whole world fucking died around you, everyone you loved, or who loved you, but all you care about is your fury at the fact that our band was fucking better than yours!”

Bert was suddenly staring furiously into Frank's face, his eyes wide with hate. “You weren't fucking better than us. You just got fucking _lucky.”_ He backhanded Frank across the face. He was breathing hard. By the look on his face, Frank knew he had hit the nail on the head. Bert was still consumed by the past.

“The world fucking _ended,_ Bert,” Frank replied, after a moment. “And all you can talk about is two fucking rock bands that don't exist anymore. _Music_ doesn't even exist now, you jerk off. Not in _his_ world. The world you belong to.” He leaned closer. “Just how fucking sick are you, McCracken?”

Bert stared back, searching Frank's face.

“Enough!” Korse announced. “Bert, come here.”

When Korse didn't receive an immediate reply, he looked up sharply. “McCracken!”

Bert snapped his head round, glowered, and then stalked away from Frank, moving to stand beside the Exterminator. Korse smiled, and then jerked his head in Gerard's direction.

“The company is very pleased with your efforts, Robert.” He smile widened. “I have been charged with giving you the good news.”

“Good news, Sir?” Bert enquired.

“Yes,” Korse continued. “The Co-ordinator wishes you to know that your debt to the company has now been repaid in full, due to your hand over of these two rebels.”

“You fucking ass-hole, Bert,” Frank hissed. “You're scum, you know that?”

“Shut the fuck up!” Bert snarled back.

Frank grimaced, and then whimpered as he was told to be silent, and shaken like a rag doll, for good measure.

“Stop hurting him!” Gerard tried to pull himself away from the wall but was held too firmly. “For Fuck's sake.” 

The sound of something moving caught all of their attention. Korse frowned, and jerked his head to one of his Dracs, telling it to go and see.

Gerard quickly moved forward. “What are you going to do to us? Hey, Korse, you piece of shit. What is there left to do?”

Korse's attention was fully back on Gerard. He chuckled, throwing the other man a condescending look. “You'll find out.” The Drac was then waved back into position and Korse then continued addressing Bert. “You chose sides well, Mr McCracken. To thank you for your help, we would now like to offer you a reward.”

Bert blinked. “A reward?”

“Absolutely.” Korse purred. “Take whatever you want, Bert.”

Frank and Gerard exchanged horrified glances. They both knew exactly where this was going.

Bert was smirking triumphantly. There was a glint in his eye and he looked from Gerard to Frank, clearly taking great pleasure in both men's obvious fear. 

As Bert stepped forward, Korse suddenly grabbed his arm again, pulling him back.

“Remember,” he drawled; his eyes locked on Gerard's. “We need Way completely broken to help us finish this game off. I'm leaving it to you to have the pleasure of making that happen.” He took his hand back, and smiled coldly. “You decide how to break him, Bert.”

“Because you've failed so miserably;” Frank hissed. “You think that loser will have any more luck? Getting desperate, Korse?”

Korse gave Frank a cold stare, and then took hold of Gerard, holding him tightly in front of him, almost offering him to up to Bert, who was watching, an exhilarated grin plastered on his face.

“You want him, Bert? Come and take him. He's yours.” Korse raised an eyebrow. “Or have you had a better notion, perhaps?” 

Something seemed to hit Bert, and he grinned knowingly at Korse. The former front man then looked toward Gerard, almost with boredom, and seemed to eye the other man up and down. And then, he smiled toothily. The smile sent shivers through Gerard's spine. He prepared himself, expecting to be grabbed and, once again, bundled to the floor, but Bert never came for him.

He grabbed Frank instead, dragging him away from the Draculoid's hold, and throwing him unceremoniously to the ground. 

“No!” Gerard yelled, struggling against Korse. “Not Frank, Bert. It's me you want! Take me!”

Bert ignored Gerard. Gritting his teeth, he began to kick Frank continuously, smiling evilly as he did so, and rejoicing in every single whimper Frank gave. Bert was like a man possessed, lost in his need to deal out violence, to make Frank, and Gerard suffer. 

Gerard was struggling helplessly against Korse, giving his all in his efforts to get to Frank, and to stop Bert any way he could. It was useless though, Korse was too strong, and he was enjoying Gerard's agony. He wasn't about to give him any hopes.

“Bert!” Gerard cried. “This isn't about Frank; it's never been about him! You want me, hurt me-”

Bert paused, looking over at Gerard, his face flushed. He smirked.

“What I want,” he gasped, catching his breath; “Is to see you suffer. Now, just stand there and watch while I fuck your little boyfriend.”

“No,” Gerard moaned. “Please. He's not done anything to you.”

Bert laughed at that. “He's a fucking pain in my ass, you fucking pathetic bitch!” He looked down at Frank's prone figure, unmoving at his feet. “Now, I'm gonna get to be a pain in his...” He chuckled at his own “joke.” 

Bert took hold of Frank's face, placed his fingers tips on the side of his head, and began to squeeze, one of his fingers pressing down on the tiny incision, the exact spot where the needle had pierced his skin. Frank slammed his hands over Bert, and tried to release the other man's hold. Bert only added the pressure. Frank closed his eyes tightly, and then his screaming filled the small room.

“Stop!” Gerard shouted. He was ignored.

Frank was quickly losing consciousness. Bert was very able to pin him to the ground. Frank was completely at his mercy. And, Gerard realised, Bert was going to kill Frank if he didn't let up.

Knowing he was Frank's only hope, Gerard jumped into action. He brought his elbow up into Korse's face, catching him unawares. As Korse brought a surprised hand up to his cheek, Gerard made the most of his advantage, and using the last of his strength, he shoved the hated man to one side. Suddenly finding himself free, Gerard dived for Bert and Frank. The Draculoids rushed to restrain him, only for Korse to hold up a warning hand, and all the Dracs came to an abrupt halt. 

Taking his unexpected opportunity, Gerard hurled himself at Bert, shoving him away from Frank. As Bert attempted to recover, Gerard took the opportunity to throw himself between his boyfriend and them, breathing harshly, his face set in determination. His intention was clear:

Bert was not getting near Frank. Not again.

The Used front man skidded to a halt in front of Gerard, regarding him with annoyance, his eyes flashing. “Get the fuck out of the way.”

Gerard glared back, shaking his head stubbornly. “No chance.”

“Don't do this, Gee;” Frank whimpered. “Please don't...” He feebly reached out for his boyfriend. Gerard grabbed his hand and squeezed. He stayed exactly where he was; between Frank and Bert. He was the reason Frank was in this place and predicament; he had let the man down when he’d needed him the most. There was no way that was going to happen again.

He would die for Frank Iero if he had to.

Bert ground his teeth impatient. “I said, move!”

“Not going to happen,” Gerard threw back. “You're not touching him.”

“Gerard, I'll give you one more fucking-”

“This isn't about Frank, and you fucking know it! It's not about Korse, or Better Living, or Killjoys or rebels. You don't give a shit about the Doc, or the fact that the world is fucked. This is about you, and me, and the fact that I walked _away from you._ You can't deal with it, Bert. You can't deal with me being _better_ than you, you never could. A better singer, a better songwriter, a better performer, and, as it turned out, a better rebel. A better fucking _man!_ That's what this has all been about, McCracken. I used to look up to you, but then I became more important than you. In your mind. That's why you want to hurt me, isn't it?” He eye-balled Bert. “For once in your fucking life, Bert; tell me the _truth!”_

Bert was breathing hard, glaring. He didn't speak for a moment. 

Finally, his eyes met Gerard's, and the red head flinched at the fire he saw in the other man's gaze.

Bert wanted to kill him.

Instead, he leaned in close, and hissed in Gerard's ear. “I hope you enjoy watching me ripping poor little Frankie apart.”

Bert went to grab Gerard, to undoubtedly force him to move, leaving the path clear to Frank, but before he could; Gerard, in pure desperation, spoke again.

“You can do whatever you want to me,” Gerard snapped. “I won't fight you.”

Bert froze. His eyes bored into Gerard's. “You mean it?” He asked.

“NO!” Frank shrieked. “Don't you fucking lay a hand on him, you bastard. Gerard-”

“Silence!” Korse demanded. He seemed intrigued by what he was witnessing and his gaze was locked on Gerard. 

Gerard paused for second, his gaze catching Frank's for a moment, and he smiled at his boyfriend sadly, trying to be reassuring. It didn't work.

“Please don't, Gerard-”

Gerard ignored Frank. He stared intensely at Bert, and then, very carefully, he nodded.

Bert's smile was one of pure evil.

“I think Frank's jealous, you know. Maybe he's sorry he won't get to finish the job.”

Gerard blinked. “What?”

Bert shrugged. “He seemed desperate to please me when I stuck my dick down his throat. He even swallowed like a good little whore.”

The red head didn't react immediately. He struggled to keep in control, and then looked over his shoulder at Frank, who was staring back at him, horrified.

“Did you?” Gerard whispered.

Frank squeezed his eyes shut. He was defeated. “I needed my pills,” he whimpered, in a tiny voice. “He promised...” He broke off, tears slipping down his cheeks, and his head hung in shame.

Gerard, his eyes flaming, looked back up at Bert.

“You motherfucker.”

Bert winked at him.

Before Gerard could go for him, Frank was quickly grabbed, and then restrained by Korse. He couldn't even move, let alone attempt to interfere. Gerard tried to put a stop to his boyfriend's suffering, but he was suddenly dragged up by Bert, and then shoved viciously against the wall. His clothes were unceremoniously ripped off of him, and tossed carelessly to one side. Bert then kicked his legs aside, and forced a finger deep inside Gerard, preparing him. Gerard cried out, and writhed in pain.

“Stay still,” Bert hissed, placing a hand on the other man's back. “Don't fucking move.”

Gerard had no choice. Breathing harshly, and unable to stop his body trembling from the cold and fear, he obeyed.

“Look at all these marks, these bruises;” Bert purred. “The Exterminator made a real mess of you, Gee-”

“It was a pleasure,” Korse snarled. 

The two BL/I colleagues laughed together, enjoying their shared joke.

Frank felt sick. He tried to fight, tried to struggle, but Korse held him fast. All he could do was watch on, helpless, as Bert proceeded to assault his boyfriend, pushing his finger in and out, not even attempting to be gentle. And Gerard was just staying there, taking it. For him.

Frank was dismayed.

Bert withdrew his finger, and then pushed out at Gerard, knocked him down to the dusty ground, and then clambering on top of him, as if he was nothing but a doll, certainly not a living, breathing, person.

But Gerard was not a human being to Bert. He was something to be played with, something to be used. Bert was claiming his prize. And he was going to enjoy it.

The red head grunted as Bert once more inserted one finger into him, and then another, only this time coating Gerard with cold, wet lubricant. The Killjoy was surprised that he even bothered, but then he was reminded of Korse's heart-warming concern for him during his previous rape. Better Living didn't want him permanently damaged. And it appeared Bert was obeying their instructions too.

_“Stop this, you sick fucks!”_

Gerard heard the whimpered plea from over to the side of him, and his heart once more went out to Frank, having to stand there, in Korse's hand, watching Gerard's humiliation. He wished he could see his lover, wished he could tell him somehow that everything would be okay, that Gerard would happily suffer this shame a million times, if that meant he saved Frank from the same fate even just the once.

Suddenly, the fingers were again removed, but Gerard's relief didn't last long. Within seconds, he felt Bert, panting hard, lining his hardened length up against his hole. He let out a low moan, and tried to relax as much as he could. He knew this would hurt, no matter how lubricated or prepared he was. Bert was not going to be gentle with him...

“Brace yourself,” Bert snarled, in his ear, confirming his fears.

Gerard didn't know why he even bothered, but he had to give Bert one more try. So, he tried, one last time, to get through to the man he had once known, the man he prayed was still in there, somewhere.

“We were best friends once, Bert.” He whispered. “We shared everything. You even told me you saw me as a brother. Don't do this.” 

Bert paused, eyeing Gerard. He leaned back for a moment, releasing his hold.

Frank gaped at Bert, daring to dream that maybe, just maybe, Gerard had broken through whatever walls Bert, and Korse, had built up. Korse, meanwhile, holding Frank to him tightly, was watching Bert just as closely, a small frown on his face.

Bert, finally, placed a comforting hand on Gerard's shoulder. “You're right, Gee;” he replied.

Frank felt Korse tense up behind him. The Killjoy held his breath.

“We were best of friends,” Bert muttered. “I'd have done anything for you.” He tightened his hold on Gerard. “But, and tell me if I've got this wrong, you were the one who ruined that friendship. You dropped me. And you're gonna pay for that.”

Gerard closed his eyes, trying to hold back the tears. Bert stroked Gerard's hair. “I wish this was still black,” he whispered. “I preferred it black. And then I could pretend that nothing had changed.” He kissed the back of Gerard's neck, and then made him turn his head to the side, so Frank could see his lover's face. 

“Hey, are you okay Gerard?” Bert slurred. “You look pretty low.”

Gerard squirmed. “Please,” he moaned.

“Shh, now.” Bert hissed in his ear, as he pressed himself up against him once more. “Pretend I'm Frankie, if it helps.” 

And, with that, Bert entered Gerard with one hard thrust, causing his tormented victim to scream in agony. Bert gasped in delight, twisting his head slightly, and looking straight at Frank.

Tears were streaming down Frank's face as he struggled uselessly against Korse, who was chuckling in his ear, thoroughly enjoying what he was seeing.

“You keep your eyes open,” Bert told Frank, his voice breathless. “You fucking watch every second of this.”

Gerard bit his lip, desperate to prevent any further screams from escaping, determined to stay strong, for Frank's sake. Bert swore loudly as he pulled all the way out and shoved back inside. He repeated this again and again, his teeth bared, enjoying the long awaited defeat of his foe. He looked down at the whimpering Gerard as he fucked him relentlessly. To hear that wonderful scream turn into whimpers, to see the look of agony and humiliation on Gerard's face – this was heaven for Bert, and he was revelling in it. 

“How does that fucking feel?” Bert snarled. “You arrogant little dick. Thought you were so fucking special. _This_ is all you are now. This is all you’re ever gonna fucking be!”

Gerard grimaced, his body juddering with every cruel thrust. He forced himself to silent. He wouldn’t give in to Bert. He was taking his body, but he wouldn’t get _him._

The assault was brutal but mercifully short. Bert came with a cry as he emptied himself inside of Gerard. When he was finished, he fixed his clothes, and then stepped away, allowing Gerard to lay, beaten and broken, on the floor. Gerard didn’t try to move, the very familiar agony was once again consuming him. He lay there, defeated, trying to catch his breath, as Bert regarded him with complete disdain.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” A beat. “So, what do you have to say to me now?” 

Silent tears fell down Gerard's face. His throat was hoarse and sore, and he was trembling all over. All the words he had spoken only a mere five minutes before seemed hollow now, he knew that they meant absolutely nothing. He'd lost again.

He stayed there, on the ground, writhing in helpless agony. He could hear Frank calling his name but he didn't respond. How could he face Frank now? He knew somewhere deep inside, that Frank didn't blame him, loved him and was trying to get to him, but all he could concentrate on at that moment was the pain. He could feel blood seeping down his thighs and wondered what damage the traitor had caused to him. He sent another prayer up to God, though his last had been ignored.   
_'Please, let me die. Let Frank hold me, and the two of us get away from here. We'll be safe, and we'll be together.'_

He cowered then as Bert leant over him. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see him. 

“Tell me Gee, how do you feel now? How are you ever going to look your sweet Frankie in the eye again? After he's seen you like this? A broken wreck of a man. Whenever you kiss him, you'll see me. Even if you did perform some miracle and escape this, when the two of you make love, if you did have some future together, I'll be there, right there with you. You're soiled goods now.” 

Gerard whimpered, but Bert wouldn't let up. 

“Look at you. Look at the state of you. Some rebel leader! Some leader of a band that millions of fans looked up too! What are you now?! You're disgusting; ruined forever and ever. I'm inside you now, and you'll never wash me away. You'll never feel clean again, will you? You'll never forget this night. And do you know what?” 

Gerard tried to look away. Bert tutted. 

“No, you fucking look at me. Do you know? This is all your own fault. You did this. Just _you.”_

There was no response from Gerard. He just lay there, trembling slightly.

_But someone else would not be silenced._

“Don't you listen to that fucker, Gerard!” Frank exclaimed. “He can't touch you! Not who you actually are. Neither can Korse. They're both scared of you. That's why they've done this, that’s why they needed to break your spirit but that’s not going to fucking happen, do you hear me? Your body is broken, but not you! Not the Gerard Way I know! Your fucking stronger than this, Gee! Come on! Now, fucking fight back!”

Korse laughed. “Give it up, Ghoul. You know he's beaten.”

“No,” Frank retorted. “He's _not._ Not beaten by you, pig, or by that bastard.” Korse tightened his hold, and Frank suddenly found it harder for him to breathe. He whimpered, but couldn't struggle any longer. He was exhausted. He slumped forward, in Korse's arms. “Please Gee,” he moaned. “Don't give up now. Please.” And then, after a beat; “I love you so much.”

Gerard opened his eyes slowly. Every word Frank had spoken was echoing inside his head, and he could sense his lover's desperation, and his belief in him. He lifted his head, the effort taking every ounce of will power he had left. He then turned over, on to his side, moaning in agony. Finally, when he was in a more comfortable position, he met Bert's stare with a cold one of his own. And he pursed his lips together.

“Are you done?” He said, softly, but determined. “Sorry I closed my eyes; I thought I'd sleep through it. I hardly noticed anything, to be honest with you. But then, I have already been raped by Korse and, after that, this felt pretty tame.” He actually winked. “But you're slightly fucking smaller, aren't you, Bert?”

Frank could have cheered, as he stared at Gerard in awed shock.

Korse snorted appreciatively.

Bert gaped at Gerard, his eyes flashing dangerously. He then, quickly, looked toward Korse, who was openly laughing at his accomplice. Bert flushed with shame, bowing his head for a second as the embarrassment, and also the realisation of his complete failure in breaking Gerard. He looked up again, and fixed Gerard, who was smiling at him, with a stare of total hatred. Then, with a furious shout, he rushed at his former friend, striking him hard against the face, and knocking him to the ground. Gerard went down, with a pained cry, as once again all his recent injuries, plus the new ones Bert had forced upon him, came back to haunt him. That small cry turned into an anguished shriek when Bert stamped down on Gerard's broken ankle, the ankle that was on its way to healing, but Bert brought his boot down on the bone so viciously, he snapped the healing bone once more.

Gerard yelled, and yelled, writhing in pain.

“What do you fucking say now?” Bert snarled, grabbing him by the hair. “You arrogant little shit. You've not changed, you know that? Still an arrogant ass-hole who likes the sound of his voice _too-fucking-much._ Better songwriter than me? Better singer? Why don't you fucking _sing_ it for me now, you little cock sucker?” He smirked. “Just like your boyfriend, eh, Gerard?”

Gerard whimpered at that.

“I don't think our ears could take any more of his singing, Bert.” Korse chuckled.

“Fair point,” Bert laughed.

“Fuck you.” Frank gasped. He wrestled against Korse's hold, actually managing to struggle his way free. “Fuck the pair of you.”

With no hesitation, he rushed to Gerard's side, and dived down next to him. Just like he had done once before, when all this ordeal had begun, he fixed Gerard's trousers for him, and re-clasped the buckle. He then grabbed at Gerard's hand, kissing it.

Gerard looked up at him, and smiled. “Love you,” he whispered.

“I'm sorry,” Frank sobbed. “I'm so sorry.”

The Dracs went to pull Frank away, but a quick gesture from Korse once again rendered them immobile. Bert rose to his feet, eyeing Frank and Gerard with amusement. He then reached into his pocket, pulling out a cigarette, and lighting it quickly. He let out a loud sigh then.

He smirked at Frank.

“Want a turn, Frank?” He took a long drag, and then blew the smoke in the fuming brunette's direction. “He's ready for you.”

Frank looked up at Bert. Something inside him snapped. He no longer cared about anything, not about Korse, or the destructive chip inside his brain. All he wanted to do was to kill Bert. That was all that mattered. With a shout of fury, and ignoring the agony in his head, Frank threw himself at Bert, landing blow after blow on him, beating and kicking any piece of Bert he could get his hands on. Finally though, Bert's added strength, and Frank's weakness, showed through, and Bert was able to gain the upper hand. He forced the smaller man to the ground, and then wrapped his hands around Frank's neck and began to throttle him.

Frank gasped, clawing at Bert's hand. He couldn’t breathe, and very soon, he couldn't see properly either. Everything was fading fast, and Bert suddenly seemed so far away, hidden in the darkness, and then Frank couldn't hear any more, and he knew he was going far away and he had to get back because he couldn't leave Gerard on his own-

Then, the world was suddenly flooding back. He could see again, and hear someone shouting, and then Bert's hands weren't around his throat anymore, and he could breathe again. It took him five more seconds to realise that the Dracs had pulled Bert away from him, at Korse's instructions, he assumed.

He rubbed at his neck, wondering why he was still alive. His eyes met Gerard's and he understood. Gerard was gasping for breath too, his eyes watery, and he was red in the face. Gerard had pleaded for Frank's life once again, and Korse had accepted.

Korse had never looked so smug.

He was eyeing both Frank and Gerard with interest. “You are still fighting Gerard, even though you know it’s hopeless. You must know Frank will die, and you belong to us now. But you haven't given up. I am impressed.” He smiled. “Perhaps I was wrong. I believed your feelings for your friends was your weakness. Perhaps those friends make you stronger-”

“What _good_ are friends?” Bert interrupted, smiling at Gerard. “The whole fucking world is gonna know _my_ story, Gee. The man who defeated the great Party Poison. I'll be famous. Everyone will know my name.” He shrugged. “I fucking win after all.” 

Korse was staring intently at Bert. He placed his head on one side.

“Have you defeated him?” Korse asked. “He doesn't look broken to me.”

Bert frowned. “I just need some more time.”

“It doesn't matter what we do to him, physically. He still won't break. He's stronger than you, or I, ever expected him to be.” Korse took a step forward. “And, besides, your time is finally up, Robert.”

Bert blinked. He shot a sideways glance to Gerard, and then quickly looked back at Korse.

“Then let me kill Iero, Exterminator.” He was suddenly sounding nervous. “It would be my pleasure.”

Korse's eyes were blazing. “You're not listening to me. It still won't break Gerard. He knows Frank has forgiven him, he knows he has the love and faith of the man he cares about the most, and he knows that whatever we do to Frank, his rebel sweetheart will not blame him, therefore, Gerard will not completely blame himself. Frank's love is holding Gerard together. Only barely, perhaps. But it's enough.” Korse's lips twitched and his eyes narrowed as he regarded Bert closely. “You, however, are a different matter altogether.” 

Bert froze. He opened his mouth, and then closed it again. 

“I don't follow you.”

Korse gestured to Bert. “You, my friend, are my secret weapon. Because of you, Gerard will break.”

Gerard stared from one man to the other, and then looked up, questionably, at Frank. Frank shrugged. He didn't understand what was happening either.

Neither did Bert.

Korse was in his element as he continued to taunt Bert. “You have drugs coursing through your veins, a different form of the torture drug I used on Gerard. It has been affecting your behaviour for months, and your emotions. Every time you took the drugs to help your headaches, you were increasing the dosage.” He paused, glancing quickly at the watching Killjoys. “The same drugs that made Gerard dependant on you and Frank so distrustful, they were also having the desired effect on our favourite puppet. You. Your emotions were out plaything. Loyalty became betrayal. Love became hate.” He chuckled. “And how much you hated Gerard Way, Bert. Or, you thought you did.”

Bert gaped stupidly, still utterly confused by what he was hearing. 

Gerard suddenly spoke up. “Stop,” he said quietly. “Leave him alone.”

Korse paused, turned, and regarded Gerard. The Killjoy was visibly upset, his arms wrapped around his chest for comfort, and leaning in close to his boyfriend. Frank, meanwhile, was giving his lover concerned glances. 

The Exterminator was smiling. “Worked it out, have you?”

“This was about me, wasn’t it?” Gerard whispered.

Korse laughed. “How very egotistical you are, Way. But you’re quite right, of course. This was all for you. Doesn’t that just make you _burn_ inside with guilt?”

Gerard flinched, then turned away quickly. “Bert, you have to listen to me-”

Bert gaped at him, still completely at a loss.

“I don’t-”

But Korse wasn’t finished.

He stepped forward, cutting off Gerard, and addressed Bert once more. “You refused to give your precious old friend up. You survived torture, solitary confinement, even seeing your three best friends killed right before your eyes, even _that_ couldn't break you. You held firm. So, we had no choice but to try the new prototype on you, and the new Behaviour Moderator drug. It worked perfectly. You blamed everything on Gerard. Their deaths, your suffering, even the weather!” He grinned horribly. “He became your obsession, only all you wanted to do was destroy him, instead of save him. It was even more perfect than we could ever have hoped.”

“Just shut the fuck up!” Gerard exclaimed. “Please.”

“What did he do?” Frank murmured. “Gee, I don't get-?”

“He made Bert into the perfect weapon against us,” Gerard answered shakily. “Against me.” His eyes met Frank's. “And it wasn't Bert's fault.”

Frank paled.

Korse smirked at the devastated Gerard, who was now on the verge of collapse. This latest relevation, together with the agony of his rape, was taking it's toll on the red head, and quickly. If it weren't for Frank's support, he would evidently be unable to stand. Korse chuckled, amused that his master plan was going entirely to plan. “Believe me, Way. Bert here loves you as much as Ghoul does. And you never even knew. He wouldn't give you up, not for anything. And yet he meant nothing to you.”

“That's not true,” Gerard moaned weakily.

Korse carried on, unrelentless. “But _nobody_ can withstand our drugs. This is why you were always going to lose, Poison. Look at what you have caused. All of this happened to Bert and his friends because of his loyalty to you...”

His words were having the desired effect. Gerard was falling apart before his eyes. And this time, Korse would ensure that not even Frank would be able to put him back together again. 

Korse had pulled a familiar object out of his pocket, and now held the shooter gun up for Bert to see, and winked at him. “You remember this, don't you, Bert? This was used on you plenty before you broke so beautifully. And you did break. And then the rage took over.” He took a step forward. “What do you suppose happens if another drug is injected, a drug that works against the effect of the moderator that is still inside of you, still controlling you? What if we were to take that away and allowed you to feel for yourself once again?” He smiled. “What happens then?” 

“No,” Gerard whimpered. “Oh God, no.”

Frank tightened his hold on his lover, dread coursing through him, as he watched Bert. 

The former singer backed away, but he had nowhere to go.

He could only squirm as Korse pinned him helplessly to the wall, and then held him still as he injected the mixture directly into his temple. Immediately, Bert began to scream in pain, and Korse, watching in amusement, released the other man, and stood back. Bert swayed on the spot, in agony and terrified, as the behaviour moderator that had been installed inside him for months disintegrated. Then, he was on the ground as the agony intensified. He yelled until he was hoarse, unable to focus on anything but the pain. He clutched his hands to his head, and moaned, as all the hate, and jealousy and anger he had been feeling ebbed away, leaving only confusion and pain. 

At last, the agony dimmed, and Bert was able to focus. He blinked, trying to clear the stars from his vision. He then glanced at Korse, and instantly recoiled in horror.

“Korse! You fucker,” he spat, his hatred evident in his tone. “Jeph, Dan and Quinn. Where the fuck are they? If you've fucking touched them, I'll kill you!” He pointed at the smirking Exterminator. “You fucking smug bastard! What did you do to-”

Bert suddenly broke off. He stared at Korse, memories starting to return to him. And then, he began to remember everything. He saw Jeph screaming, heard Dan calling his name, and Quinn pleading for his help. He saw the blood, heard their cries, saw their dead, helpless eyes staring at him as they were brutally killed one by one. He felt all the emotions come flooding back, the feelings of helplessness and despair – but still a stubborn resolution that he would not give up the man he owed such a huge debt too.

Wait. Who was that man? Why did he owe him? What couldn't he tell Korse?

And then his eyes fell upon the Killjoys.

_'Shit.'_

His gaze lingered on Frank for a second, some recollection sparking inside of him; and then, he saw Gerard. He started forward in shock, shaking his head. No. If he knew one thing for certain, he had to get Gerard away from Korse. Korse wanted Gerard, wanted to hurt him. He wouldn't let him. He'd make up for the past. He would keep Gerard safe this time.

Bert froze.

There was something missing. They'd done something to him. There had been a white room, and equipment, and doctors. They'd held him down and had injected something into him. 

He moaned, and buried his face into his hands

“Fuck no...”

They'd changed him. They had turned him into a cold bloodied murderer. It all came crashing back to him, how he had felt nothing but hate, and had so badly wanted to hurt the people he had believed had abandoned him, the people who were to blame for the others' deaths. He'd wanted to punish Death Defying. He'd wanted to make the Killjoys pay. And, most of all, he'd wanted to hurt Gerard Way. He'd wanted to make him scream, and beg, and cry. He'd wanted to bruise the perfect, pale skin...

And that was exactly what he had done.

He looked up slowly, his eyes' meeting Gerard's. And devastation coursed through him.

Gerard had to look away, unable to hold that anguished gaze. Bert whimpered. What had he done? What the _fuck_ had he done? He'd murdered for them, he'd drugged friends for them. He'd made Frank's life a misery, and had killed Lindsey. And Gerard? He'd tormented him, beaten him, tortured him, _raped_ him. The man he respected above all others. The man he loved...

“No,” Bert moaned. “This can't be-” He broke off, shaking his head, in complete denial. “Please no.”

Korse chuckled. “You are free, Robert.” His eyes sparkled. “Enjoy it.”

“What did you do to me?” He asked, so quietly, so dangerously. “What the fuck did you bastards do?”

Korse raised an eyebrow. But he didn't reply.

Bert trembled in barely concealed anger. “What the fuck did you _make_ me do?”

“Not me,” Korse taunted. “You did it, all if it. It was all inside you, waiting to be set free. And you were wonderful, Bert. You gave us Gerard Way on a plate. In the end, all of your stubbornness was for nothing.” His eyes narrowed. “Your friends died for nothing. You were the perfect pawn. You have our thanks.”

Bert balled his hands into fists. His rage tipped over. With a shout of anguish, he grabbed for the nearest Draculoid, breaking its robotic neck without any hesitation. Suddenly, he had its gun, and was firing at its companion. The Drac had nowhere to go. It went down without a sound.

Bert blasted two shots at Korse. One hit his shoulder, the other barely missed him. With an angry hiss, Korse yelled for back up, and then scrambled out of harm’s way, taking cover behind an overturned table.

Bert was beside Frank and Gerard in an instant. “Get out of here,” he hissed. “Help Gerard. Make for the door. I'll cover you.”

Frank gaped at Bert. “But-”

“Just get the fuck out!”

Gerard lightly touched Bert's hand. Bert moved away quickly as if he had been burnt. His eyes met Gerard's for a second. “I wanted to help you.” He muttered. “That's all I ever wanted.”

Gerard stared back.

Another shout from Korse brought them hurtling back to the present.

Bert dragged Gerard to his feet. “Frank, take him out. You have to hurry. Gareth's drugs won't save you for long. I'll hold him back. GO!”

Frank knew they had only one chance. With one grateful nod to the man he had despised for so long, a man who was as much of a victim as they were, Frank made for the door, pulling Gerard along with him. Gerard was crying out in pain and despair, and every step on his broken ankle was agony. Gerard winced when he heard Bert's scream of hatred as he threw himself at Korse.

“Get out the door, Gee!” Frank urged. “Don't look. Just get-”

But Gerard had skidded to a halt. And Frank quickly realised why. Two more Draculoids had answered Korse's call and were now baring the exit. They were once again trapped.

Frank shook his head in helplessness. They had nowhere to go.

A shrill cry brought both of their attentions quickly back to the other two men in the room. Korse had gained the upper hand, as expected, and was twisting Bert's wrist in an awkward angle, forcing him to drop the ray gun. Bert's cry grew louder as Korse snapped the bone like it was a twig, and then smiled with exhilaration as he landed two cruel blows to Bert's midriff, easily ending Bert's struggles. Bert couldn't offer any further resistance as he was forced to his knees, with Korse, having scooped up the ray gun, taking position behind him. Then, Korse unleashed his full fury on the man who had withstood his torture, and had embarrassed him in front of his superiors. Blow after blow was rained down on Bert, until there was not a piece of him unmarked. Finally, Korse stopped, and then pulled his victim back into a kneeling position and held him, so that he was facing the now horrified Killjoys. 

He smirked, able to read how much they wanted to help Bert, the man who had caused both of them, and the rest of their gang, so much harm and pain. This was exactly what Korse had planned. This is what would finally unravell Gerard Way. 

“You are going to let him die for you too.”

It wasn't a question.

Gerard trembled. Frank swore.

The Exterminator's tone was steady and cold as he addressed Bert. There was no emotion in his voice at all, as he calmly sent a man to his death:

“Robert McCracken, you are accused of assisting rebels, murdering law enforcers, and joining the known terrorist movement, the Killjoys. As you are aware, all Killjoys have been targeted for extermination. Judgement has been passed on you, and your sentence will be carried out immediately.”

Bert and Gerard locked gazes. A silent message passed between the two men as the one time Used front man gave his former best friend a typical grin. 

Gerard tried to get to Bert, but Frank held him back. They couldn't help Bert. No one could help him.

And Bert knew it too. He couldn't hide the tears, or the tremble in his voice as he spoke two last words to the man he had given up everything to protect, but had failed, and hurt him, regardless.

“I'm sorry,” Bert managed. Then, he closed his eyes. And waited.

Gerard shook his head wordlessly. He reached out a hand, though he knew it was pointless, to a man he once called his best friend. The best friend he believed he had lost, but had in fact been torn away from him, against his wishes.

Gerard had got Bert back. His Bert. And he couldn't save him.

With a smirk, Korse calmly fired, blasting the back of Bert's head away. His corpse was then allowed to fall to the ground, abandoned and forgotten.

Gerard could only stare down at the body, his eyes shining with the tears he now allowed to fall. He gaped at Korse, fighting back the urge to vomit where he stood.

Korse held his gun up high in a twisted salute.

“No loose ends,” he whispered. “It’s time to finish this.”

Then, he began to laugh. 

The sound made both Gerard and Frank shiver to their core.

TBC


	24. Chapter 24

Korse took a step towards the stunned Killjoys, reaching out a hand toward them. Frank instantly moved in front of Gerard, and manoeuvred him away from the Draculoid now standing between them and freedom, until the redhead's back was pressed against the wall. Frank glared hatefully at Korse, ready to protect his lover with his last breath, if that’s what it would take to keep him safe.

The Exterminator watched their progress, or lack of, with clear amusement on his features and burst out laughing when Frank ventured forward to meet him. Frank frowned, his cheeks turning pink, as he took in Korse's pleasure at his attempt to keep fighting.

The brunette glanced over his shoulder at Gerard, and saw the other man leaning against the wall for support, breathing heavily, his eyes still fixated on Bert's body, and his obvious anguish was etched all over his face. Frank's ever growing worry increased. Never mind the mental torture Gerard was now going through thanks to the revelations about Bert, the same man had also _raped_ him mere minutes beforehand. He clearly needed urgent help.

But just how the hell was Frank supposed to fucking get him any?

Korse was now looking past Frank, watching Gerard with a keen interest.

“Poor Gerard doesn't look too good,” Korse noted, gravelly, with a glint in his eye. “I could stop his pain, if you would permit me.” He felt down into his pocket, and Frank tensed, ready for some form of attack, but none was forthcoming. Instead, Korse pulled out a small container, identical to the one Frank knew only too well.

The younger Killjoy reacted instantly. “You keep that shit away from him!”

“Relax,” Korse sighed, waving away Frank's outrage. “They are simply pain-relievers. He is hurting badly, that is obvious, and these will numb the pain.” Korse raised a curious eyebrow. “Or would you prefer to continue watching him suffer?”

Gerard raised his head wearily, and fixed Korse with a telling look. He then closed his eyes and looked away, wanting to shut everything out. 

He appeared to be a man defeated, in every possible way. It almost killed Frank to watch him.

Korse, meanwhile, was shaking his head.

“Your own headaches will return in full force very soon, Iero. But then you know that, don't you?” He raised an eyebrow, offering the pills to Frank instead. “I see that you are smarter than you look.” He smirked. “Perhaps you would prefer to keep these for yourself?”

Frank stared at the drugs offered to him, and then back at Korse. He was only just managing to keep a lid on his rage. “You think I'd actually put myself in front of-?”

“He's broken,” the Exterminator cut across him. “Body, mind and soul. Bert saw to that.”

Before Frank could steam into Korse, a soft cry caught both of their attentions.

_“No.”_

They looked up to see Gerard edging carefully away from the wall; his arms now round his middle for support. He was facing Korse, and unbelievably, there was a renewed anger in his stance. 

Korse's eyes narrowed. “No?” He echoed.

“Bert didn't do that to me. He didn't rape me. You did. You made him do it.”

Korse's smile was one of pure evil. “You think Bert didn't want to fuck you? Sorry to burst your little innocent bubble, Way, but he has been waiting for that opportunity since the moment he met you. Trust me.”

Gerard trembled slightly, pushing memories of Bert out of his head. Once he'd composed himself, he asked, his voice strained; “Why him?”

Frank glanced at Gerard. He didn't think talking about Bert was helping them at all, especially considering Gerard's current state of mind. Korse, meanwhile, was frowning at the question.

“What?” He snapped.

“Why _Bert_? Why did you go through Bert to get to me? I hadn't seen him for years even before the bombs fell.” He glanced at the crumpled body; all that was left of his former best friend, and swallowed hard. “Why did you choose Bert?”

Korse shrugged. “Because he loved you, and you didn't care. You didn't even know it.” He walked over to Bert's corpse, lying beside Gareth's, and squatted down beside it. He gave Gareth's remains an uninterested glance. The Welshman didn't matter to Korse. He never had. He wasn't even worth wondering about. Only the Killjoys mattered, along with their unavoidable defeat. 

The time had finally come.

He grinned over at Gerard. “You and Bert's story was somewhat complicated. You shared so much, but you never truly trusted him.” He looked up at Gerard then, and smiled. “Or so he believed, anyway. Bert never had the chance to make up for his past misadventures with you, Gerard.” He reached out, pulled up Bert's jacket sleeve, exposing his arm. He lifted the dead man's arm, and then took off a bracelet, which had been strapped to Bert's wrist. He then straightened his smile widening. “He never will get to put it right now, will he?”

Gerard let out a low moan, and covered his face with his hands. Korse was delighted. He strode quickly across the room, grabbing Frank and literally throwing him out of the way as if he were nothing but a rag doll. The brunette crashed to the ground, grunting from the harsh treatment. His hand instantly went to his pained temple, and he screwed up his forehead, trying to shut out the latest rush of pain. Now, Korse's path to Gerard was clear. Gerard didn't even react when Korse took hold of his wrist, and slipped Bert's bracelet onto him, and tightened it. “There we are,” Korse whispered. “Now, we are all set. No more escaping, Killjoy.”

“Don't touch him,” Frank managed, dragging himself back into a kneeling position. 

Korse shook his head at him disdainfully. “You can't save him, Fun Ghoul. I can do whatever I want to him, and believe me, I will. You are helpless to stop me.”

“What good is he to you now?” Frank croaked. “He can hardly stand by himself. You've as good as killed him, anyway. What kind of soldier do you expect him to be, after what you made Bert do to him?” He gritted his teeth against the pain. “After everything _you've_ done?”

Korse chuckled. “You common rebel, you have no idea what this company is capable of, what we have at our disposal. The very best doctors in the world, and the greatest scientists, they all work for us. He'll be patched up just fine, don't you worry.” He smirked. “In fact, he'll be stronger, faster, and smarter than ever.”

“With no soul,” Frank ground out. “He'll be a machine.”

“He'll be beautiful,” Korse declared. “And he'll be all mine.” He stroked Gerard's hair. The younger man didn't even flinch. “Speaking of which, let’s do something about those aches and pains, shall we?” He held out the small tub of pills to Gerard.

Gerard blinked. He stared down at the drugs offered to him, but didn't go to take them. He simply looked.

Korse frowned. “You'll feel better,” he urged.

“Gee,” Frank groaned, from his spot on the floor. “The side effects-”

“Hardly matters now.” Korse snapped. “You don't have to worry about anything now, Gerard Way, I'll take away all your fears, and your anxieties.” He held up the pills again. “Now, take these, and do yourself a favour.”

Gerard took the pills carefully. He didn't look at Frank, who was moaning quietly, heartbroken by what he was seeing. Keeping his eyes locked on Korse, Gerard popped the pills into his mouth, and swallowed them down.

Korse nodded his approval. “Good boy,” he whispered. “My favourite new toy.”

A shudder went through Gerard, but he didn't try to resist against Korse.

Any fight had left him. He was so tired. He just wanted it all to stop.

The Exterminator regarded him closely, and then moved backwards, gesturing towards the Scarecrow in the doorway. 

“Why don't I show you both exactly what our scientists are capable of?”

Frank shook his head desperately. “Why don't you just leave him alone?” He snapped. “Just stop.”

Korse's eyes blazed as he glared at Frank. He opened his mouth to offer some retort, but then paused, placing his head on one side. Frank eyed him, knowing he was receiving further instructions. He watched him, trying for the thousandth time to work out a way of outsmarting him, or at least slowing him down so he could get Gerard to some resemblance of safety. But there was nothing; no bright ideas, no “Eureka!” moment. They were at Korse's mercy.

Korse moved to one side, trying to get out of earshot, but failing, and held his wrist communicator to his mouth. Very soon, it was clear he was receiving news he was not impressed by. “There is no need,” they heard him snap. “I'm in complete control. I will bring him to you. It is pointless for you to come-” He broke off, glancing at Gerard and Frank, and then turning away. “Ma'am, you should listen to-” He stopped, his body language changing instantly, giving in. “Yes Madam. I understand, madam. I will see you shortly.” 

Korse stood there; his wrist communicator still held to his mouth, his face flushed. His superior had embarrassed him once again. To counter his shame, he turned quickly, and struck Gerard hard across the face. The blow was so strong, he cut the younger man's lip, and a tiny speck of blood appeared. Gerard did nothing; he just stared at Korse, unable to prevent the visible shudders running through him. 

Frank began to scream obscenities at Korse, telling him he would find “some fucking way to kill him,” if he even breathed on Gerard again. Korse chuckled coldly.

“Don't you worry,” he mocked Frank. “With the future he has ahead of him, he'll soon get used to the beatings...”

Frank whimpered at that, and cast a terrified glance at Gerard. The redhead hadn't even reacted. He simply continued to stare at the ground, almost as if he expected it to swallow him up. Frank wished it would. If that was what it took for Gerard to escape the hell he was facing, then so be it.

Korse suddenly turned his back on the Killjoys, so he was facing the doorway. Quickly, he barked, “'Crow, bring me the Reprogrammer.”

Frank didn't know what a “reprogrammer” was, but he knew enough to realise that it was not a good thing. The dread building inside of him increased tenfold as the summoned Scarecrow entered the room, inclined it's head politely to Korse, and then quickly walked up to him, holding out a ominous looking device. The Exterminator accepted the machine, and then waved the 'Crow away. It retreated at once, its head bowed low. 

Korse inspected the machine. He then looked up at Frank, and smirked. “Do you know what this is?”

Frank glared, but didn't reply.

Korse chuckled. “ _Now_ you choose to go shy on me? This is the latest state of art technology are scientists have created.” His eyes were shining. “We no longer need to bring you rodents to the City to wipe your puny minds. We can now bring the equipment to you.” His gaze lingered on Gerard. “It's still a prototype. The last experiment didn't go so well-”

Gerard looked away. “Lindsey,” he muttered.

Korse nodded. “Indeed.” He held the machine up. “Tell me, Way. Do you know what this will do to you?”

Gerard's eyes met Frank's for a second. “It will kill me,” Gerard replied, weakly.

The Exterminator was enjoying himself. “How very morbid. It will _free you_ , Gerard. You will lose your worries, your pains, everything holding you back from becoming the person you were born to be. And then, once you return home with me to the city, and we have conditioned you into exactly what we want you to be, we can utilise every talent you have within you. You'll be a better person, you will _belong_. That's why I’ve searched for you for so long. You fascinate me, and the company. And now, you'll be ours.”

“Over my dead fucking body,” Frank growled.

Korse rounded on Frank. “Just be patient,” he growled. “I can wait.”

Frank swallowed hard. His headaches were increasing again. He knew the feeling so well by now. And, this time, he knew there would be no further offers of borrowed time.

Korse had turned his back on Frank again, and was regarding Gerard. “Perhaps,” he muttered; “One last example for you.”

He whirled round, and beckoned the 'Crow closer. “Kneel,” he instructed, and it obeyed without hesitation. Korse paused, and then lowered the helmet onto the reprogrammed man's head. He pushed down, and the 'Crow grimaced. Korse was unconcerned.

When he was satisfied the machine was placed correctly, he brought the communicator up once more. “Test connection,” he snapped.

“ _Understood_ ,” came the reply.

A red light flickered on in the centre of the device, and they all heard a low humming sound. The Killjoys watched, aghast, as the 'Crow whimpered in pain. He placed his hands against the device, and groaned loudly. Korse, hands clutched behind his back, watched him closely. Then, the voice from Control spoke up again.

“ _We have a full signal._ ” 

Korse nodded. “Good.” He walked forward calmly, gripped hold of the ReProgrammer, and then ripped it off of the Scarecrow's head. The 'Crow's reaction was instant. It screamed with pure horror, his hand's clutching his own head so tightly that he bled from where his fingers nails dug into flesh. He spasmed repeatedly, trying to reach out to Korse. A desperate, but futile, attempt for aid. There was obviously none. After a few more wretched moments, the unfortunate Scarecrow keeled, writhed on the ground, and then lay still. Both Gerard and Frank stared at it, fear-stricken. They didn't need to touch the body to confirm the obvious. It was dead.

Gerard gaped at the body on the ground, the third life that had been lost since he had entered that room. The Scarecrow had been his enemy, perhaps, but he had still once been an innocent, someone that had been corrupted by the damned Corporation, and there twisted drugs and ideals.

The drugs that would do exactly the same thing to Gerard. And he could do nothing to prevent it.

Korse turned his back on the crumpled figure that had once been his colleague, taking a calculated step toward Gerard. His smile filled Gerard with even greater dread. Korse was taking great delight in his fear.

Feeling his blood turning to ice and freezing in his veins, Gerard knew he had to face the truth. There would be no miraculous escape this time. He wouldn't be saved by his friends in the final chapter. Korse had won, and he and Frank had lost.

Korse was looking over the machine in his hands, clearly checking if it was still in full, working order. He obviously would not allow anything to go wrong. Not when his victory was finally in sight.

“Once connection has been made,” he told the mortified Killjoys; “The ReProgrammer must not be removed from the test subject until the process has been completed. Otherwise, the subject suffers, as you just saw, a very immediate, and very fatal, brain tumour. Not a nice way to die.” He smirked.

Frank doubled his efforts to free himself. He silently cursed himself for how weak he felt. 

How the hell could he help Gerard?

His boyfriend was staring at the evil contraception, all colour drained for his face. Frank had never seen such obvious fear on anyone's face before. It killed him to see Gerard looking so broken.

And he knew why the other Killjoy was so afraid. This wasn't simply dying. Gerard would continue to exist, but all aspects of him would be lost. He would become a soulless, emotionless machine, like the rest of them. This was a fate worse than death. And there was nothing Frank could do to save him from it. 

He held the ReProgrammer up, like a trophy. Then, he winked at Gerard.

“Kneel.”

Gerard hesitated, exchanging a nervous glance with Frank. His boyfriend, for his part, was struggling tooth and nail against the Dracs, despite the ever-present pain in his head, trying to throw them off again. All he wanted was to get to Gerard, and stop this from happening. To save Gerard any way he could.

Very carefully, Gerard looked up, his hazel eyes shining with tears, though his face was determined. “Let him go, first.”

Korse raised an eyebrow. “Now is not the time for you to try and bargain with me, Killjoy. You've already lost. Now, do as you're told.”

Gerard said nothing. He knew that falling to the ground would basically be signing his own death warrant. He merely continued to stare at Korse, unmoving.

Frank was breathing hard, watching the interaction, furious that he could do nothing to aid his lover. 

Korse shrugged. He beckoned to the two Draculoids holding Frank. “Let’s give the Killjoys an example of how strong you are, shall we, boys?” He gave Gerard a knowing smile, and then once more addressed his slaves. “Please tear Fun Ghoul's arms off.” 

Despite Gerard's screams to stop them, the Dracs take hold of Frank, and begin to stretch out his arms. Frank gritted his teeth, refusing to call out, but the pain was unbearable.

Korse was clearly enjoying the display. His eyes were locked on the devastated Gerard. “They will tear his arms out slowly, Party Poison. Just so he suffers for longer. You know the power a Draculoid can exert, rebel? After his arms, they will remove his legs-” 

“NO!” 

Having heard enough, Gerard rushed forward, desperate to stop them hurting Frank.

“JUST FUCKING STOP IT!”

“Then do it!” Korse snarled, grabbing him round the middle, and then shoving him away. “Save him any further unnecessary suffering, and _get on your knees.”_

With one last long apologetic look to Frank, who was shaking his head at him desperately, his face screwed up in agony, Gerard fell to his knees, grimacing in pain. 

“Release him,” Korse ordered, and Gerard watched as Frank was thrown to the floor, where he lay, curling up onto a ball. Relief flooding through him, Gerard then looked desperately towards the door, as if he expected someone to come rushing in, someone flying to his rescue... He closed his eyes, and tensed as he heard Korse approaching him from behind.

“No one is coming, Gerard.” Korse said, reading Gerard's mind. “You are alone, you and Frank. You know he's still going to die, right? You can't stop that. All you have done is spared him additional pain.”

“I'd do anything for him.”

“Let’s find out.”

“ _Please,_ ” Gerard muttered. “Please don't do this. We'll disappear. All of us. You won't hear from Frank, Mikey, Ray, or me ever again.” He opened his eyes, leaned back, and looked up at Korse desperately. “I'm not Party Poison. I'm just a singer in a band. I don't wanna die.”

“Gee...” Frank couldn't stand it. He pulled against the Dracs now once again holding him, hopelessly trying to get to his desolate boyfriend. 

Korse's eyes were boring into Gerard's. He smiled, almost gently, and then knelt down in front of his prisoner, his hand placed on his shoulder in a mock show of tendency.

“You should have thought about that,” he whispered; “Before you tried to be a hero.”

And with a triumphant smirk, Korse placed the Reprogrammer on the other man's head, slamming it down over his red hair, the edges of the cruel device cutting into flesh, causing as much pain as he could. Needless pain. 

Gerard gasped, his hands on the abusive metal at once, trying to pull it off. All he knew was, that before the connection, whatever it was, was made; he had to get the cursed thing off. Otherwise, he'd die.

He couldn't even move it. It was too heavy.

Gerard could hear Frank's desperate shouts, mixed with Korse's cruel chuckling, and he tried to concentrate on the sound. He knew that when the machine was activated, it was imperative for him to remain aware of his surroundings, and those near him. He had to keep focused. Or he would lose everything.

He heard three words, hissed with pure glee, right in his ear.

“ _Activate the Reprogrammer._ ”

Instantly, the connection was made. Gerard cried out in shock as a deafening high pitched whistling almost blew his ears off. He covered them with his hands, whimpering in fear, trying to force the machine away. Somewhere inside, he knew that ripping off the machine now would mean his death, but that didn't even seem to matter. He had to block that noise out. It was taking him over, and he was terrified.

That voice, the voice he knew he hated, he could still hear it, still make out the instructions. He homed in on that voice, as cruel as it was, as it was the only outlet he had. His only escape.

“ _Increase the signal!”_

Suddenly, as if someone had switched on a television in his mind, he could see his life. The important moments of his life, all flooding before him. He couldn't stop them. He had no control over what he was seeing. He closed his eyes, but that made no difference.

He was seeing his life played out before him, and he knew it would be for the last time. 

Gerard had heard the saying so many times, even came up with a related quote himself, which had been repeated over and over again by his many admirers, but now his life truly was rushing before his eyes, so fast, he could hardly take in each moment before it was gone. And each second, the times of his life that had made him that man he had become, were instantly being erased, one after another.

He couldn't hear Frank so clearly now, though he knew he was still there, still desperately calling his name, begging him to fight, to hold on, and to remember. But it was so hard, and he was so tired, and those images were flashing by. He tried to cling on, tried not to lose them, to lose him, but it was useless. 

Every part of him was being blocked out. Eventually, he would be nothing but a shell. Everything he was, or had ever been, was being lost. And he couldn't do a thing about it.

He could hear his own whimpers; feel his hands pressed against his head, as if he could stop the memories from leaving him, as if he could stop the unholy contraption on his head doing its evil work.

But he couldn't. Nobody could. 

The images were flashing again, and this time, he tried to hold each one in his mind, desperate to keep them there, and to stop this from happening.

_Mikey at their school, lying on the ground, smoking. Being shoved against lockers, crying and slamming his fist against a wall, alcohol numbing the pain, His mom and dad, happy, laughing, He and Mikey at some insane gig, the crowd jumping all around him, the ecstasy, his comics, his Grandmother telling him to not get angry, just to sing, the Twin Towers smoking, people screaming, Matt, Ray, Frank, music, music all around him, in his head, so many lyrics, so many words, music, and he was singing, and people were cheering, and he was with his best friends, and they were rocking and the audience were crying his name as one..._

He was wailing. He was screaming. That voice was there again, yelling his name, pleading for him to listen. He tried, but it was so tiring, and he just wanted it to stop, and his head hurt, and the flashing lights were there again, and he could see it all so clearly, and he wanted to go back...

_Still drinking, drugs giving him a high, standing side by side with Bert, The Black Parade, Bert disappearing from his side to be replaced by Eliza, Bob grinning, playing like a loon, Frank in the background, smiling at him, holding onto Mikey, not letting him go, more screaming, more singing, more hectic, more crazy, clean, sober, free, Lindsey in his arms, smiling, “I’m pregnant, Gee.” Bandit in his arms, touching his finger, Bob not there, Pedicone and Frank hugging, blackness, world in shock, pain, horror, the fires, the bombs, everyone dying, trying to help, not following the sheep, dying, leaving him, mom telling him to run, take Mikey and run, running, never stopping, Lyn Z becoming Frank, holding Frank, kissing him, Bandit calling for her daddy but she's moving too far away. He can’t reach her…_

_He wants to stop this. They can stop this._

Each moment was being ripped away, and soon, there would be nothing left of him but an empty space. He wouldn't forget, he couldn't.

 ** _Let it go._** A voice, a voice in his head, whispering to him. Gently, calmly, patiently. Coaxing him. He knew that voice. He should ignore it. But it was still there, still urging him. **_Do as I say. Be at peace. Be with me. All you have to do is obey... Just listen to my voice..._**

He saw the rest of it, each second, another loss, and another part of him dying...

_Party Poison, the Killjoys, The Trans AM, the Doc, the bombs falling, the world dying, fire everywhere, the desert, the Zones, Korse smirking, Korse holding him down, hurting, thrusting, tearing, killing him inside, Bert returning, throttling Lindsey, she was dead, she's never coming home, and Frank is crying, and Frank is walking away, and Mikey is running toward him, and he looks afraid, and Grace is there, and where is Bandit, and she still wants her Daddy but he can't get to her, and he's going far away, leaving, time to sleep, go, go now, everything is fading, dying, he's dying and he can't hear any more, and he can't remember any of it, and his name sounds strange now, what is his name, and it's all gone, and there's silence and there's nothing but darkness..._

All slipping away...

_Three faces, shrouded in the blackness, disappearing into the mist..._

Who were they?

Who was he?

**_You are free._ **

Whatever he had been trying to remember, it was gone now. He felt nothing. He was nobody.

Why were those men looking at him? Who were they?

**_You belong to me now._ **

Why was one of them crying?

He didn't know them. And he didn't care.

**_Remember the sound of my voice. Remember, and obey._ **

There was only blackness. And he was free.

Nothing could hurt him now.

_Nothing._

XXX

Frank was slumped on the ground, helplessly watching Gerard's inner battle. He'd called out to him, begged him to fight it, to fight Korse's control, but, despairing, he knew there was nothing he could do. Even Gerard couldn't fight BL/I's manipulation. He was being deleted. Everything that had made him so incredible, such a force for good; it was being ripped away from him. And then, when there was nothing left, they would create a new version of Gerard Way. And all Frank could do was sit there, held down by the Draculoids, and let it happen.

Until, finally, Gerard grew still. He stood, frozen to the spot, his arms hanging at his side. His lover, best friend, leader, who had always had so much love for life, was now staring straight ahead vacantly. Frank tried to catch his eye, but it was hopeless. 

“Gerard?” He attempted, already knowing there was no point.

Gerard didn't even flinch.

There was no way he would get a response.

Gerard had no idea who he was. Gerard didn't know who anyone was.

There was no Gerard, not any more.

Frank could hear someone moaning, someone was in real agony. It took him a few more seconds to realise; the sounds were coming from him. He was falling apart.

“Gerard,” he mumbled, desperate. What other choice did he have? He had to try. “Please.”

“Gerard is no longer with us,” Korse stated loudly. “Not the man you knew. He belongs to me now. From here onwards, he's mine. And he will become whatever I want him to be.”

Frank could only whimper in reply. 

It was true. He had lost the man he loved, and he could never get him back.

Korse was marching towards the unresponsive Gerard, his hands clasped behind his back, and with a triumphant smile on his face.

“Look at me,” he barked, and Gerard, slowly but surely, raised his dead eyes to gaze at Bert, but there was no emotion. He was simply responding to the order.

He was a robot. No better than the Draculoids. 

That was what he would become. Once they got him back to the city. Just another drone. 

Frank's heart was shattering into tiny pieces. All he wanted was to die. Why was he still alive? Korse had everything he wanted. Why did he still need him?

Korse, meanwhile, was playing with his new “toy.”

“Turn to your left,” he barked. 

Gerard obeyed instantly.

“Step forward.”

Gerard did so. There was no expression on his face at all. There was nothing there.

“Hop on the spot.” Again, Gerard complied.

Korse smirked. “Now, give me a slow spin, slave.”

“Stop it!” Frank couldn't take it anymore. He refused to watch as Gerard spun round, tripping over his own clumsy feet, and falling onto his knees. Frank swore angrily, as shoved the Drac's away, and attempted to climb painfully to his feet. “You've made your point. He's gone. Just leave him!”

Korse turned to regard the devastated Frank, smiling nastily. “Something you want to say, Fun Ghoul? Gerard has never been so agreeable, wouldn't you say?”

Frank trembled. “Just kill me,” he spat, tears streaming down his face, and he didn't care. “You've fucking won! Just let me die too!”

Korse's eyes twinkled. “All in good time, Killjoy.” He pulled Gerard back up, and took great pleasure in dusting him down, infuriating Frank all the more. “Seems little point in waiting for the chip to finish you off. But why should I have the pleasure of killing you? Don't you think I should give 'the new boy' a chance to prove himself?”

Frank stopped. He stared, wild-eyed, at Korse.

“No,” he muttered. “You can't-”

“Slave,” Korse said, and Gerard looked at him once more. “You are instructed to obey only my voice, correct?”

A pause. And then, “Yes.”

“Whom do you care about?”

Gerard blinked. “I do not understand the question.”

“Who are your friends?”

“I have no friends.”

Frank couldn't stand there and listen to another word. He forced himself forward, although the agony in his head was no longer tolerable. He needed more drugs. He knew he wasn't going to get any. But then, he wasn't supposed to survive. He had been brought there to die. The only question now was whether he would die from the chip bubbling in his brain, or if he was to die at the hand of the man he loved, just a pawn in Korse's sick game.

“Gerard, look at me!” Frank pleaded. “You know my voice. It's Frank. Please, I know you are stronger than this. Come back to me!”

“You’re wasting your time,” Korse taunted. “He’s gone.”

“No, he's fucking not! He's stronger than you think he is.”

Korse smiled, and then placed a possessive arm around the unresponsive Gerard. In a gentle voice, he whispered; “It is time for you to prove himself, Gerard. Wouldn't you like that?”

Gerard blinked “Yes.” He replied, emotionless.

Frank could only stand there, helpless, as Korse continued to purr into his boyfriend's ear. “Then kill him for me. Can you do that?”

Gerard stared at Frank. There was no recognition in that gaze whatsoever. 

“Yes, sir.”

In that moment, the world ended for Frank. He, instinctively, backed away, straight into the arms of the waiting Draculoid positioned behind him. He was held tightly, he couldn't move a muscle. Korse, smirking, gestured for Gerard to move forward.

“Come then. Show me what you can do. Impress me, Gerard.”

Gerard, his face expressionless, took the offered gun, looked up, and then slowly approached the now trembling Frank.

Frank gazed at his boyfriend desperately, searching his face, trying to find something there, anything, to give him some hope.

There was nothing.

“Gerard!” Frank whimpered. “It's me, Gee. It's Frank. Please don't do this.”

Gerard blinked. He didn't reply. There was not a hint of recognition as he carefully raised the gun, and pointed it directly at the pleading man's heart.

Frank didn't give up. How could he?

“You don't want to do this, Gerard. I love you! I've always loved you. You're not just my boyfriend, you're my hero. The best man I've ever known. Don't leave me. I love you.” He was shouting now, repeating himself, and yelling the first things that came into his head. “ _You’re my hero! You've always been my hero!”_

“This is all very desperate,” Korse taunted. “He's not _your_ Gerard Way anymore, Frank. Accept it.”

Frank ignored him. “You are everything to me, Gerard. Think about you and me, and Ray and Mikey. Before the bombs, think about our band, and who we were. Remember us, Gerard. Please!” Tears cascading down his face as he added, his voice breaking; “ _Don't let him win!”_

Korse was beside Gerard now, playing with his long hair. The machine still bleeping, still sending it’s evil message directly into Gerard's brain. “So pretty,” Korse purred.

“Don’t _fucking touch him_!” Frank shouted.

Korse laughed. “He's no longer your concern.” He placed his hand on Gerard's back, urging him, softly but strongly. “Kill him, Gerard.”

Frank screwed his eyes shut. He didn't want to see Gerard fire that gun. He didn't want to see the man he loved ending his life.

Seconds passed. 

Frank stood, his head turned slightly to one side, his teeth gritted. He waited for the sound of the blast, waited to hear the noise that would signal the end of his life. But it didn't come. He opened his eyes carefully, and a shiver went through him when he saw Gerard standing mere feet away from him, gazing at him with wide, hazel eyes. His gun was still raised and pointing straight at Frank, but the brunette couldn't help but notice the tremble in the other man's grip.

Gerard continued to hesitate, a conflict raging silently within him. 

Every part of him wanted to shoot the man before him. He wasn't important, and the voice had to be obeyed.

But he couldn't do it. He didn't want to do it.

He shuddered violently.

Korse, still standing beside him, had run out of patience. “Why do you delay? I said, kill him! Do it! _Now!_ ”

Gerard's face twitched. His finger covered the trigger.

And still, he didn't fire.

“I can't.” There was a slight tremor in his voice, thanks to the confusion in his mind, but he spoke loudly, and clearly. And confidently.

Silence descended. The only sound was Frank's laboured breathing as he waited, shocked by what was happening. Korse was clearly just as shocked. He was glaring angrily at Gerard, and evidently could not believe what he was hearing. “What did you say?”

Gerard spoke again, his voice remaining level and calm. “I don't want to.”

“I gave you an order!” Korse exploded, snarling into Gerard's face. “This man means nothing to you! You don't know him. You will obey me. Now, kill him!”

Gerard simply stood there. He looked at Frank once more and then back down at the gun still in his grasp. He needed to obey Korse, his hand wanted to fire, but something was stopping him. As he gazed into the man's eyes that was standing opposite him, he saw something there he did not expect to see. This man, whoever he was, he believed in him. He trusted him. Gerard had no idea why, but there was an aura around this man. 

Gerard would not kill him. He could not. 

He glanced at Korse, and then swiftly shook his head. 

Korse hissed in fury, and then harshly shoved Gerard to one side, sending him sprawling to the ground. “You are useless,” he spat. He was breathing hard, and seemed at a loss at what to do next. Frank knew why. She was coming. She was on her way to check up on Korse. If Gerard were not completely under the Exterminator's control, then he would have failed. And all their efforts would have been for nothing.

Frank looked directly and Korse, and he chuckled. The Exterminator's head snapped round, and he stared at Frank is shock. 

After a beat, Korse spoke again. “You think this is funny?” He whispered. “You think I'm beaten? He's unbelievably strong willed. I'll admit that. But once we increase the signal to full power, not even the great Party Poison will be able to put up any further resistance...”

That threat was the last straw for Frank.

With a roar, he wrestled free from the Dracs, and threw himself at Korse, screaming obscenities. His body was yelling its outrage, his was in absolute agony, but he fought to ignore the pain. But, he didn't stand a chance. Korse overpowered him all too easily, and soon, Frank was forced to his knees, with Korse pressing his thumbs to Frank's temple, and then he was pushing down, his teeth bared.

“He's mine,” Korse snarled. “You little shit.”

Frank screamed in pure agony. Korse wasn't going to wait for the chip to finish him off; he was going to kill him, there and then. The Exterminator was breathing hard, exhilarated, as he increased the pressure he was placing on the helpless Frank. He wouldn't rest until Frank was dead.

“Die,” Korse hissed. “Die knowing you couldn't save him, Frank Iero.”

Frank whimpered, clawing at the fingers causing so much pain. “ _Gerard… please…_ ”

Gerard was slumped on the ground, trying to focus on anything except the mind-numbing noise and confusion in his head. He couldn’t see clearly, the voices were screaming at him, urging him to obey, and become at peace with them. They wanted to know why didn’t he fire? Why was he resisting? They only offered him happiness and contentment. All he had to do was obey. But the voices were lying; he was anything but at peace. He looked up and watched the desperate struggle happening a few feet away from him. The small man was dying.

He didn’t care.

No.

Of course he cared.

Why couldn’t he kill that man? Who was he?

And why was that nagging doubt there, standing out amongst all the agony and fury inside his head?

“ _If you don’t listen, then you’re never gonna learn.”_

A smile. A laugh. A hand reaching out for his own. A guitar riff, so beautifully played. 

_“We just have to watch Mikey and make sure he doesn’t put anymore forks in the toaster.”_

Wait. What the hell was a guitar riff? How did he know those words?

And who was Mikey?

_“I would date Gerard.”_

He stared, wild-eyed at the man fighting for his life. 

_“Yeah, for trees!”_

Memories were hitting him now, one after another. He did know this man. But it was so much more than that.

_“Gee, come back to me.”_

He _loved_ this man.

The screaming wasn’t just in his head now. It was all about him. The man was screaming. His _lover_ was screaming.

What was his name?

Why couldn’t he remember?

The voices wanted him to forget. They said this wasn’t important.

**_“Obey, obey, obey…”_ **

He felt the ray gun in his hand, and tightened his hold on it.

A name, lost in the muddled state that was his brain, was pushing out toward him. He clung to it. And then, he _knew._ And he remembered.

_Frank._

So very close by, Frank was in agony. The darkness was there again, coming to embrace him, to welcome him. Frank wanted it to surround him, to take him away from the pain. Part of him knew he wasn't done yet, Gerard still needed him, but Frank couldn't fight any longer.

It was pitch black now. The room was spinning. The pain was finally lessening.

He was leaving.

_'I love you, Gerard. Forgive me'._

There was a muffled cry.

Someone had called his name. 

But he had to leave. He couldn't stay.

There was a loud _bang._

Frank flinched. There was a light now. He could see again. He blinked, staring up, stunned, and trying to focus on something other than the agony and confusion in his brain.

Korse had stopped. His hold on Frank loosened, and the agony and the darkness were easing. The Exterminator's eyes widened in confusion, and he staggered backwards, almost losing his footing. He turned awkwardly, swaying on the spot, and looked down at his body, his mouth gaining an “O” shape as he gazed down at the blast mark in the middle of his chest. He looked round, and saw Gerard, his gun aimed, his expression neutral. 

“What-” Korse gasped.

He took a step forward.

Gerard fired again. He had to protect this man called Frank. This man he could barely remember, but knew that he loved. He had to save him from the evil man. The blast hit Korse on his hip. He grunted in shock, swaying slightly, his eyes boggling. He looked crazed. Gerard watched him. He seemed calm, but on closer inspection, he was twitching and sweating all over. 

“How-” Korse managed. “How did you-?”

Gerard's legs seem to give way from beneath him, and he fell to the ground. He lay there, trembling, his gun hanging uselessly in his hand. Korse reached out for him, his face filled with pure rage. Gerard didn't move, couldn't move. As Korse took hold of the red head, he had just one intention. The plan he had followed for so long was redundant now. All he wanted was to destroy the Killjoy that continued to resist him. He would end him anyway he could. 

But he didn't get the chance. The time Gerard had bought for Frank had done the trick. The brunette, drawing on the last of his strength for one last time, threw himself backwards, head butting the Draculoid behind him. As his head connected with the Drac's, Frank bellowed in agony. It hurt. It hurt so much. He had to keep going. He tried to focus on Gerard, saw Korse crawling towards him, a murderous look on the BLI bastard's face. Frank only had one chance. He snatched the gun from the Drac he had knocked unconscious and blasted its’ friend at point blank rage. The drone was sent flying, knocked cleanly off of its’ feet. It didn't get back up again.

Frank didn't hesitate. He stumbled forward, squinting through the all consuming agony, and saw Korse pinning the unmoving Gerard beneath him. He was throttling the Killjoy, and Gerard was not trying to fight back. Frank, screaming his fury, pulled the trigger. The shot struck Korse on his back. The exterminator yelled in outrage. He fell backwards, releasing Gerard, who closed his eyes, and rolled onto his side, tears streaming down his face, as he whimpered in pain. The voices were furious with him, they wanted to hurt him. The evil device continued it’s cruel work, sending its’ wicked messages directly into his brain.

Frank found himself mere feet away from Korse. His eyes met the Exterminator's and there was a flash of panic in those cold eyes.

Frank fired at once, and then Korse was down, lying on his back, at the former guitarist's feet. The brunette fired at him repeatedly, waiting for Korse's body to still before each blast. After shooting the evil bastard a further five times, Frank paused. Korse was gasping for breath, unable to move, on the verge of death. And, this time, he would stay dead. Frank aimed the white ray gun between Korse's eyes. It seemed poetic to him, that the BL/I weapon would destroy their best and most well known murderer.

Frank took a deep breath. His finger covered the trigger.

“It doesn't make any difference.” Korse's words were so weak; Frank had to strain to hear him. He listened intently, watching Korse's last moments of life. “You kill me now, and you win nothing. You'll follow me, and I'll hunt you down in hell, just like I did in life. And, while we both burn, your precious Gerard will belong to my company. I beat you both. _I win._ ”

Frank blinked. “Congratulations,” he said simply. He then moved the gun downwards, and blasted Korse directly at his groin.

A moment passed. It seemed to take a few seconds for Korse's brain to compute exactly what had happened.

And then, he began to howl. He writhed, and he screamed, and he cried. The son of a bitch actually _cried._

“Fuck you,” Frank hissed. “You bastard.”

He shot the hated man in the head.

Korse stopped screaming.

There was no mistake this time, absolutely no coming back.

Korse was dead.

Frank stared down at him for a moment, his gun still raised, as if he expected Korse to suddenly open his eyes and grab for him. But he didn't. His unseeing eyes were staring upwards, a small sliver of blood protruding from his mouth. He was gone. They were free of him.

Frank came to his senses. He dropped the gun, and ran straight to Gerard's side. He could feel that Gerard was still shaking. He turned him over gently, eyeing the contraption covering his hair with hatred. He wanted to rip the thing off, but he knew he couldn't. Not without killing his love. He placed a hand against Gerard's face, and rubbed his cheek.

“Gerard?” 

Gerard didn't respond. Frank's hopes were disappearing. Whatever had come over Gerard, whatever had made him fight back one last time against Korse, it seemed to have left him once more. “Gee,” Frank whimpered. He had to keep trying. He didn't have long left himself. He had to try. “Come on babe, I know you're still in there. Fight them, Gee.”

Gerard opened his eyes, and gazed up. Tears were cascading down his face.

Frank kissed the other man's lips gently. “Please Gerard,” he moaned. “Please come back...”

It was a tiny whisper, but it was the most beautiful sound Frank had ever heard.

“ _Frankie…_ ”

Frank's head snapped back round. “Gee?” He managed, not quite believing it.

Gerard grabbed for Frank's hand, and clung on. “I can't fight it, Frankie. I can't block out the noise. I'm losing. I can't stay long...”

Frank couldn't speak. His own sobs wrecked his body, as he held Gerard tightly. His headache was all consuming, all destroying. He knew the blackness was coming for him. He didn't know how long he had left, but he knew he didn't have much time left. He buried his head into Gerard's chest, and stayed there, listening to the other man's heart beat. He wouldn't leave him; he wouldn't let him face this alone...

“I'm so sorry, Frank,” Gerard whispered. “I'm sorry. It shouldn't end like this...”

He winced, fighting every urge he felt to place his hands around the throat resting so close to him, and squeezing. The voices wanted him to kill Frank. He wouldn't.

_He wouldn't._

Frank shook his head slightly. He didn't need to hear any apologies now. He just needed to feel Gerard, to hold him close. 

They would not be parted again. Ever.

The two Killjoys were so transfixed by each other, lost in their own love, and both knowing they were nearing their ends, neither of them noticed movement from the corner of the room.

The Draculoid Frank had knocked unconscious was on its’ feet, and had picked up the gun Frank had discarded. It looked at its’ master, left in a heap, for a moment, and then returned its’ attention to the devastated Killjoys, ready to die in each other’s arms. 

It would help them do just that. Its’ last order received from Korse had been clear. It would carry his orders out, in his honour...

The Drac raised its’ gun, and pointed it straight at Frank.

Its’ finger tightened on the trigger.

There was a shout. And the sound of ray gun blasts once more filled the small room...

TBC


	25. Chapter 25

_There was a shout. And the sound of a ray gun blast once again filled the small room..._

Gerard and Frank stared at each other, both wondering what was happening. They looked up and saw the Draculoid that had tried to end their embrace had met its own demise instead. It had been shot in the back of the head, and had fallen where it had been standing.

They gaped at each other, stunned. They had been so caught up in their own hopeless, intense moment; they had completely switched off...

“Gerard!” A figure was suddenly hurtling towards them, startling them both. “Frank!”

Mikey had flown into the room, his gun still raised and smoking. He looked around, his eyes wide with wonder as he took in the dead bodies all over the small room. A triumphant look spread across his face when he saw Korse, before his gaze fell onto Bert, and his eyes narrowed in anger. He then snapped his head back round, taking in Frank and Gerard, and their stunned expressions, and wasting no more time, he dived down beside them, grabbing for them both, relief now written all over his face. 

“What the fuck, you two?!” He stormed, his whole form trembling. “Why did you go off on your own? What the hell happened?”

Suddenly, Ray appeared behind him. He let out a huge breath when he saw Gerard and Frank. “Thank fuck for that!” Then, it was his turn to gaze around the room in amzement. “What-”

Gerard let out a low moan, desperately trying to concentrate on Mikey and Ray, instead of the high pitched noise and furious shouting inside his head. He released his hold on Frank, and before he knew it, Mikey was upon him.

“I thought you were dead,” Mikey whimpered, clinging onto his brother for dear life. “I was so fucking scared!” He pushed Gerard back to have a good look at him and stared nervously at the glowing machine fixed to his brother's head. “What the fuck is that?”

Gerard gave him a tiny, pained smile. “Not my best look, huh?”

Mikey went to touch the machine, but Gerard grabbed his hand.

“Don't worry about it right now, Mikes.”

“But-”

“Please Mikey, just hold me.”

He pulled Mikey forward again, into his arms, burying his head into his brother's shoulder, making the most of him being so close once again. He didn't speak, he just rested there. He had believed he would never see Mikey again. He was grateful for the one final opportunity.

Giving the brother's a moment to themselves, Frank reached out a shaky hand to Ray. “How did you find us?” Ray pulled Frank up, concerned by the evident agony on Frank's face, and then he embraced the smaller man tightly. “We were led to you.” He told him.

Frank pulled back, his brow furrowed in confusion. “What? By who?”

When Ray finally released Frank, he looked at the bodies at his feet, frowning, and then looked uncertainly towards the door.

“It's all clear. Come on in, Gracie.”

A small whirlwind swept into the room, rushed to Frank, and threw its arms around him.

Frank's eyes widened. He took hold of Grace and pushed her back slightly, looking at her in astonishment.

He rounded on Ray then, still holding on tightly to the child's hand.

“You brought Grace into this?” Frank snapped, fuming. “Are you _high?_ ”

“She came to us!” Ray shot back. “We would never have found you if it wasn't for her!”

“She could easily have been seen-”

“I followed you guys,” Grace proclaimed, proudly. “I remembered my training, and I was good, Ghoul. No one saw me. Then I went back to get Kobra and Jet. I'm okay, Ghoul. Nobody saw me!”

“She was careful, Frank;” Mikey offered, looking up.

Frank was still glaring angrily. “That's not the fucking point-”

“Gracie,” a weak voice spoke up, cutting across Frank and his anger, and they all turned to see Gerard reaching out a shaky hand to Grace. She beamed at him excitedly, and then flew across the room, throwing herself on to him. He didn't complain, he just held her to him.

“Party!” She yelled, a little too loudly, causing both Gerard and Frank to wince. “I knew you'd be okay! I knew it!”

Gerard smiled, and Grace showered him with kisses, tears cascading down her face. Releasing Mikey, Gerard placed both arms around the small girl instead. “Well done, baby.” He whispered to her.

Frank whirled around. “You knew? You knew Grace followed us? Fucking hell, Gee! Do you know what would have fucking happened if Korse had seen her? She's just a kid!”

Gerard took a deep breath. He couldn't deal with this. Not now. “I trained her, Frank. Of course I knew she followed us. And I knew she'd be careful.”

Grace looked up at Frank then, now hurt by his anger. “I know how to stay hidden, Ghoul.”

Frank shook his head bitterly. “You risked her life-”

“Is anyone else coming?” Gerard asked wearily.

Ray exchanged a quick glance with Mikey. “We didn't have any time to get a message to anybody. We were alone-”

“I see,” Gerard said, looking down.

“I just wanted to get to you.” Mikey told him. “You were all I was thinking about. If that was wrong-”

“Not wrong, Mikes,” Gerard replied, holding up a shaky hand to silence his brother. “Its all good.”

Mikey frowned. It was very clear to him, and to Ray, that everything was a far as being “all good” as it could be.

Changing tact, Ray turned to Frank. “Do you have some drugs, Frank?” Ray placing a hand on the shorter man's shoulder. “We need to-”

Frank cut across him. “I'm okay, Ray.”

Ray stared at him, his gaze boring into the other man's.

“You need help, Frank.”

Frank smiled. He glanced down at the ground. “There's something you should know.” He said softly, deflecting the conversation. “About Bert.”

Mikey instantly tutted. “The bastard is dead. Let’s forget him.”

Frank shook his head. “Bert was being manipulated by Korse, the company turned him into their perfect spy. It wasn't his fault.” He glanced at Gerard. “He sacrificed himself to try and help us escape.”

The younger Way brother gestured in annoyance. He didn't believe a word of it. “He was a liar, Frank. He was clever, he'd wormed his way out of trouble before-”

“Not this time,” Gerard said quietly. “Korse killed him. He destroyed him completely.” He closed his eyes. “Because of me.”

“People need to know the truth,” Frank told Ray, giving him a knowing look. “We want them to know that Bert McCracken died a hero. Do you get me, Ray?” He reached out and grasped his wrist. “They used Bert. It wasn't his fault.”

Mikey made a disbelieving noise. “He wasn't under their control when he tried to kill you, was he, Gee?”

Gerard frowned. “Don't argue with me, Mikey;” His voice broke. “ _Not now._ ”

Mikey glanced at him. He was confused. 

And then he noticed the “thing” on Gerard's head still seemed to be transmitting something. He didn't like the look of it and, in that second, he decided the thing needed to go.

Almost in slow motion, he leaned towards Gerard, who stayed very still, with an eerie air of calmness around him, and took hold of the Re Programmer, and began to pull, screwing his face up from the effort.

“This thing’s stuck!” He muttered. He gave it a good tug. Gerard gasped in pain.

Frank seemed to come to his senses, looked round, and saw, to his horror, what Mikey was attempting to do. He grabbed hold of Mikey and pulled him away from his brother. “No Mikey, you can't do that!”

Mikey rounded on him. “Can't do what?”

“You'll kill him!”

Ray was stunned. “Frank, what the hell-?

Frank glared at Gerard. “You were going to let him, weren't you?”

Gerard said nothing.

“We need to get that shit off of him!” Mikey shouted to Frank, who was clearly furious, mainly because he had no idea what was happening, and he didn't like being kept in the dark. “I know what that fucking thing is! Its re-programming him, isn't it?”

“It's wiping his mind,” Frank replied softly. “Preparing him for re-programming. He's fighting right now but he's going to lose. It’s a matter of time.”

Mikey gestured angrily. “Okay then. Let's get this fucker off of him then, while we still can.”

With a sigh of frustration, Frank pushed Mikey away. It took too much out of the youngest Killjoy though, and he slumped down in front of Gerard. Ray was quickly there, helping him up, eyeing his friend worriedly.

“What is it?” He asked, quietly.

“You can't take it off of me without killing me,” Gerard muttered, before Frank could answer. “Korse showed us. This thing comes off, it causes a brain tumour. Good night Vienna, basically.”

Mikey had paled. He looked from Frank to Gerard. “There has to be something we can do?”

“It’s too late, Mikes;” Gerard replied, every word obviously a strain for him. “I can feel it inside of me. The voices are screaming at me all the fucking time. And, it hurts. The fucking effort it takes to not do as they ask; They want me to kill you. All of you. And, I want to do it. So fucking much. Just for the peace. And I will eventually. It's a matter of time. I can't keep this up, every second is a struggle. I can't fight this-”

Ray reached out for him. “The Doc can help you-”

Gerard recoiled from him as if he had been burnt. “Don't touch me!” 

Ray backed off at once. Gerard, trembling, gave him an apologetic look. “I'm sorry,” he whispered. “But it's not going to happen, Ray. I'm fading fast. You can't stay here with me.”

Mikey blinked. “What are you saying?”

Ray covered his face with his hands. Mikey glanced at him, swallowed, and then looked back at Gerard. “Well? What are you telling me?”

“I need you to leave.”

Mikey actually let out a disbelieving laugh. “Fuck no! Not this time.”

Gerard closed his eyes. “Please Mikey. Take Grace out of here. It's all up to you and Ray now.”

Mikey shrugged theatrically. “I don't care what you say, Gerard. There's no way I’m leaving you again.” 

Gerard stood up shakily, Ray jumping forward to support him, but Gerard reached out, towards his brother. “I want you to live, Mikey. You and Ray have a chance but she's coming here, for us, so you have to leave now. Go.”

“She?” Ray repeated.

Gerard nodded. “The Coordinator. We heard Korse talking to her before he died.”

Ray didn't speak for a second. Then, he swept Gerard up into a big hug. Gerard nestled his face into Ray's chest, taking in his support and his strength one last time.

“I'm sorry, Gee;” Ray told him.

“Shh,” Gerard responded.

Gerard pulled away from Ray then, and turned to his younger brother, who was trying hard to keep it together. He wouldn't look at Gerard.

“Come here, Mikey.”

Mikey shook his head. He turned away.

Ray, frowning, touched Frank's shoulder

“Time to go.”

Frank didn't move. 

Ray stared at him. “Frank?”

“I'm not going.”

Ray blinked. Mikey looked as if he was ready to pass out. Gerard merely looked down at the ground as tears formed in his eyes. 

Only Frank seemed in control.

He brushed his hair back. “I'm dying anyway. I've got minutes left.”

“We can still save you, get you back to the base-”

There was a flicker of a smile from Frank at that. “Typical Ray Toro. Never give up. That's one of the many things I love about you.”

Ray bit his lip. He grasped Frank's shoulder.

“But I'm not leaving him to die alone, Ray.” Frank added.

“Frank-”

 _“I'm not leaving him, Ray._ ” 

Frank's voice was steady but firm as he gazed into Ray's eyes. “And you know it.”

Ray wanted to cry. He wanted to stop this somehow, to save both of his best friends and keep them all together, and safe and happy, where no one could ever hurt them again. But that was a dream. He couldn't save them, and they were about to be separated forever.

What else could he do? He returned Frank's tiny smile, and then nodded.

“This is not happening.” Mikey whispered, his head in his hands. “This _can't_ be happening. God...”

“Come here,” Frank said, stepping toward Mikey, his arms outstretched.

Unlike when Gerard made the same request, Mikey moved to Frank at once; and the two friends hugged tightly. Ray exchanged glances with Gerard, both men struggling to hold it together. When Mikey finally released Frank, the youngest band member then turned to embrace the lead guitarist, falling into Ray's arms. Ray just held him, laying his head against the smaller man's.

Finally he let him go. Frank leaned back against the wall, eyeing Ray through the agony in his head. He knew the truth, knew his time was running out. All of their time was running out.

Then, it was Grace's turn for hugs. She went to Frank, and then to Gerard, sobbing her little heart out, as she whispered her goodbyes, and her thanks, to her two heroes.

Finally, Frank again turned to Ray. He took a deep breath.

“You have to go,” he muttered. “Please.”

Ray swallowed hard. Then, he nodded.

There was a devastated cry.

_“NO!”_

Mikey was shaking his head, agonising over what he was being asked to do, his gaze locked on Gerard. “Frank too? No. I can't...” He took a step forward. “I can't do this without you, Gee. I can't live my life without you. I don't want to.”

There was a painful silence, until Gerard finally cleared his throat.

“I can't fight this, Mikes. I'm sorry.” Gerard whispered. “Nor can Frank. Both of us are dying, and I don't want you to suffer the same. I know I'm letting you down.” A lone tear slowly trickled down his cheek. “But you have to let me go.”

The younger Way stood there, gazing back, clearly fighting the urge to simply crumble where he was stood.

And then, he grabbed for his brother, crying into his shoulder, and clinging to him as he cried and cried, all the pain, and hate, and grief and unfairness pouring out of him in waves. They stayed like that for a few precious seconds, until Gerard finally took hold of Mikey's shoulders, and forced him back purposely.

Then, the four members of My Chemical Romance stood facing each other.

None of them spoke. They all knew how monumental this moment was. The last time they would ever all be together. None of them knew what to say. None of them wanted to break the silence. They wanted this moment to go on. Forever.

Ray rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand, and then turned to Mikey. “Come on, Mikes.” He said softly, pulling on his arm. “We gotta go.”

Mikey Way closed his eyes, as if he could block out what was happening. Ray glanced at Gerard, who gave him a weary look.

“You have to go now, Mikey.” Gerard whispered. “I'll see you soon.”

“When?”

“Who knows?” Gerard replied, with a tiny laugh. “Maybe in Heaven.”

Mikey wiped at his eyes. “You actually think we'll get into Heaven?”

“Why not?” Gerard responded. “The four of us together? God won't have the balls to keep us out.”

Mikey couldn't help but laugh along with his brother. Then, the laughter turned to sobs as the younger man finally broke down. He stared down at the ground, no longer able to look directly at Gerard.

“I love you,” he muttered, and in the next moment, he was rushing out of the doorway, not looking back. Ray gave Gerard and Frank once last long look, before he quietly slipped out, following Mikey, carrying Grace in his arms. 

She blew both Gerard and Frank a kiss as she disappeared through the door.

There was finally silence for a few precious seconds, and then Gerard let out a deep sigh, and slumped to the ground, unable to stand for a moment longer. He sat there, his head bent low. It was nearly done. Nearly time for him to give up the fight. Nearly time for the voices to be silenced. Forever.

Frank was beside Gerard against in an instant. He wrapped both his arms around the other man, holding his lover tightly to him. He could hear Gerard breathing, see his chest gently rising and falling, and knew he was weaker now. The struggle was almost over for Gerard Way, and Frank would be there to the end. He wouldn't leave him. It was all Frank had left to live for. His own time was disappearing quickly. The pain in his head was dimmer now; a sense of tranquillity had spread over him. He was ready. As long as he was with Gerard, then he was prepared for his final journey.

His time had come.

“Frank,” Gerard muttered, so softly. Every word was difficult for him.

“Shh,” Frank whispered back. “Don't speak, baby. Just rest.”

Gerard gently shook his head. “No, Frank. Please listen to me.”

Frank glanced down at Gerard. “What, Gee?”

“I want to die on my own terms, Frankie. Not on theirs.”

The other man was confused. He wondered if Gerard was delirious. He held him ever more tightly. “You're okay, sugar.” He muttered. “It'll all be okay. Trust me.”

There was a pause before Gerard spoke again. “I want you to take this thing off of me, Frank.”

Frank looked down at him, sure he had heard wrong.

“What?” He asked.

“Please, Frank.”

“Gerard-”

“Just pull it off. I can't do it myself. The voices won't let me.”

Frank released his hold, and brought a weary hand up to his own confused, exhausted head. “I can't do that, Gee. I can't kill you.”

“Frankie, I'm gonna die anyway. I can't fight it any more. I'll kill you, Frankie.” His voice broke. “I can't do it; I can't become one of them.”

“Don't fucking _ask_ me to kill you, Gerard!”

Gerard was struggling to breathe. “I don't want to die as one of them, Frankie, wearing their fucking shit. Please. Do this for me.”

Frank closed his eyes tightly. How could he do this? How could he kill the man he loved? 

“I love you, Frank, and I know you love me;” Gerard whispered, as if he was reading his mind. “I love you more than I can ever tell you. And I don't deserve you. I never did.”

The tears came then, slowly slipping down Frank's cheeks. He couldn't help it. He knew this was it. He knew this was goodbye.

Gerard was still speaking, so softly, straining to say every word. “I aimed at gun at you. I told you I hated you-”

Frankie shook his head desperately. “Doesn't matter, Gee. That doesn't matter now.”

“For everything we've ever meant to each other, Frankie; Every time you stood on a fucking stage beside me, or fought alongside me afterwards, please do this one last thing for me. Let me die as me. As _Gerard._ ”

Frank was sobbing uncontrollably. 

He knew he had no choice. He knew he couldn't deny Gerard anything.

Especially at the end.

“I love you,” Frank whispered. “I always will.”

He heard Gerard letting out a shaky breath. And he knew why. Gerard knew he had made Frank understand. And he was finally going to be set free.

Frank released his hold on Gerard, and the other man fell forward slightly. Then, the brunette took hold of the Re Programmer, and with a low whimper, he ripped it off of Gerard's head.

Gerard slumped down, but didn't hit the ground as Frank caught him safely. Gerard opened his eyes and stared, peacefully, up at Frank.

“Look at me, Frankie.”

One pair of hazel eye's met the other. Both were watery and red.

“I'll see you,” Gerard whispered.

Frank whimpered, tightening his hold, waiting for the agony he knew was coming to consume the other man.

He didn't have to wait long.

A horrific torment gripped Gerard, and he began to writhe and cry out, fingers clawing at his own head, his face contorted in agony.

Frank sobbed quietly, holding Gerard against him, trying to comfort him. His lips were against his lover's hair, whispering loving words into his ear.

Gerard finally drew still, the tremors still causing his body to shake gently. His eyes met Frank's one last time, his breathing soft and laboured.

He spoke, so quietly that Frank could only just hear him, but he drew the words into him, right into his very soul.

“I see your eyes...”

Frank shushed him, clinging to him, gently rocking him.

“I'll meet your eyes...” 

Gerard let out an audible sigh.

It was getting darker now.

It didn't hurt any more. 

He thought of Frank, of Mikey, and Ray. He saw a flash of bright lights, felt a microphone in his hand, felt love and joy all around him.

He looked at the others.

They were smiling at him.

He was loved.

So dark. But he wasn't afraid.

He was free.

_No fear. No pain. It was his time._

He was leaving.

_'I'm free.'_

And then, he knew no more.

XXX

Frank was trembling. He couldn't hear anything. The world had vanished. There was only him, and Gerard, sleeping in his arms.

Only, Gerard wasn't sleeping.

He clung to him, shaking him gently, wetting Gerard's head with his ever flowing tears.

The tears would never stop now.

“Wake up,” he whispered. “Please wake up.”

But, Gerard didn't respond. 

Frank looked up to the ceiling, to the sky. “Please Gerard!” He called out desperately. “Please fucking _wake up!_ ”

Still, Gerard didn't answer him. His eyes were closed. He looked so peaceful. He was safe now.

Gerard was gone. He'd left Frank alone.

An anguished scream filled the room, a horrific sound of pure grief and rage, and it took Frank a few seconds to realise the scream was his. His whole body trembling, and still holding Gerard as tightly as ever, Frank stared upwards, pleading with whoever was listening.

“Please... Please, bring him back... _Please..._ ”

But no one was listening.

Frank, the tears still falling, kissed Gerard on the forehead. A kiss to signify not only farewell, but also forever. For they would be together again soon, Frank swore it on his life. Or whatever was left of that life, anyway.

“You wait for me.” He told Gerard. “I'll be right there...”

A noise from just outside startled him, and Frank looked up sharply. He wrapped one arm around Gerard's chest and pulled him closer, and stuck his other hand deeply into his pants pocket. He then frowned, and waited.

Sure enough, a stern but powerful looking oriental woman marched into the room, her arms placed firmly at her sides, her cold, piercing eyes staring straight at Frank. He gazed back at her, unflinching. He had seen her face so many times on banners, and advertisements, and the television obviously, back when the company were first taking control. Before the bombs fell, and everything changed. 

He knew enough that she was called the Coordinator. And she was the reason why Gerard, and Bert, and Gareth, and the rest of them, were all dead.

She was the reason he had lost Jamia and the girls.

He eyes narrowed. She would pay for all of the blood on her hands. Blood spilled in the name of her damned Corporation. And he would make her pay dearly.

The Coordinator watched Frank for a moment more, and then her gaze switched to Gerard, and her lips twitched. “I'm disappointed.” She murmured. She turned and crossed the room, the Draculoids that had entered behind her taking up positions, all of them aiming their guns at Frank. He couldn't take them all on in a gun battle, not if he was at full strength, even if that had been his plan. He'd last a matter of seconds before he was overcome. But, that wasn't his plan. His gun remained on the ground beside him, and he didn't attempt to go for it. Why would he? He had a better idea.

The Coordinator had walked over to Korse, and was leaning over him, pressing her fingers to his neck.

“Long dead,” she noted. “Numerous ray gun blasts. That is unfortunate.”

Frank snorted. She looked over at him.

“This means we have a position now open in the Company that needs filling, Killjoy.” She smiled. “I hoped it could have been Party Poison, I would have enjoyed the challenge of conditioning a famous rebel leader, but it was clearly not to be.” She stepped closer to him. “I suppose you will have to do in his absence, Fun Ghoul.”

The Killjoy laughed a hollow laugh.

“Lets get you into surgery. That chip needs removing.” She smiled. “Quickly, by the look of you.”

He simply continued to glare at her.

The Coordinator shrugged, and then jerked her head, towards two waiting Draculoids, in Frank's direction. “Take him.”

They went to move forward.

Frank, smiling, pulled his hand out of his pocket and revealed two small explosive devices in the palm of his hand. She stopped, staring at them, realisation of what they were dawning at her.

She had a split second to meet Frank's twinkling eyes, and shake her head slightly.

“Wait-”

Frank was ready. He held Gerard to him ever tighter, almost crushing his lover's body, and grabbed his hand. Then, he smirked. “Go to hell, you fucking bitch.”

He saw her grab for her own wrist.

_'I'll see you._

He placed a gentle kiss on Gerard's head, and at the same time, crushed the small explosive balls in his hand, destroying them utterly.

He closed his eyes.

_I mean this, forever._

XXX

_*A few minutes earlier.*_

“Mikey!” Ray hissed. “You have to keep down!”

They were crouched behind a wall, Grace at their side. Mikey was glaring hatefully at Ray, and trying to pull free of his hold, so he could get around their protective wall cover.

“Why?” Mikey snapped. “I'm supposed to hide while my brother dies? Is that right?”

“He told us to get out because that damned bitch was coming for them! She could be here any minute! Now, get out of sight!”

Mikey glared. “Ray? Why don't you just-”

Ray grabbed Mikey, covering his mouth with his hand, as suddenly there were blue flashes everywhere, and then Draculoid after Draculoid was appearing before them, just outside the building. And then, they saw her. The source of all of their problems. The woman they knew was called the Coordinator was walking past her Drac legions, heading straight for the entrance to the facility. She paused for a second outside, and then pulled open the door, and entered. The Draculoids filed in behind her.

Ray and Mikey perched there, watching, breathing hard.

Mikey couldn't stand it. What was he supposed to do, sit there while his brother was captured and tortured again by those bastards? Erased forever? Before Ray even had the chance to stop him, Mikey was up and running, back towards the small building, back towards his brother.

Grace screamed his name. Ray shouted at her, ordering her to stay exactly where she was, out of sight. He then flung himself out from behind the wall, and tore off, right on his boyfriend's heels.

Ray called after Mikey desperately, catching the other man easily, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him back.

“You can't do this, Mikes!” Ray pleaded. “There's too many of them!”

Mikey looked at Ray as if he was insane. “You think I give a shit about that?” He wrestled free of Ray's hold. “They're gonna fucking die in there, Ray!” He was breathing hard, gazing at Ray, every part of him begging that the other man would understand. “I can’t watch my brother die!”

“He wants you to live, Mikey;” Ray whimpered. “You heard what he said.”

Mikey shook his head. He made another attempt to run for the building, now he assumed overrun with Draculoids. He had to get in there; he had to help Gerard and Frank. He wouldn't leave them behind and he was furious with Ray that it appeared he was willing to give up, just like that. Because Gerard had asked him to. 

But Ray was still fighting against him. He tackled Mikey from behind, sending the smaller man sprawling to the sand. Mikey struggled, kicking out at Ray.

“Let go of me! You bastard!”

“Mikey, you have to calm-”

“GET THE FUCK OFF!”

Mikey jumped forward, punching Ray hard in the face, but still Ray didn't let go of him.

The truth was, losing Gerard and Frank was killing Ray inside, but he had made a promise. He had sworn, on his life, to protect Mikey. It had been Gerard's last request of him and Ray was not going to let him down. He would keep Mikey, and Grace too, safe. And he would do it for Gerard and Frank. He would keep the mission going, in their honour.

They were gone. He would not allow them to be forgotten.

And he would not let their deaths be the end of Mikey too.

“I can't lose you too, Mikey,” Ray sobbed. “You know they're gone, but you're not willing to face it.” He held Mikey down, pinning him beneath him. “I know it hurts, baby. But it's you and me now. Please don't leave me here alone!”

Mikey stared at Ray. He was trembling, tears cascading down his face. A beat passed.

Mikey opened his mouth to reply-

The explosion blew them both off of their feet, and the crashed to the ground, crying out in shock. When they turned to see, their hearts already in their mouths, they saw what was left of the building that had once been so close to them. The building that no longer existed. Fire had engulfed the structure and the flames and smoke were billowing everywhere. Nothing could possibly have survived such a blast.

Not the Draculoids, or their Co-Ordinator.

And not Gerard Way or Frank Iero.

Ray was kneeling, his hands placed behind his head, staring at the devastation before him in disbelief. Through the pain and heart stopping grief he was trying to hold at bay, one thought was constantly running through his head: 

_What the fuck happened?_

Grace had edged out from behind the wall, and was gazing at the remains of the warehouse in horror.

“Poison?” She whispered, moving closer. “Ghoul?”

“Keep away, Gracie;” Ray urged her, waving his hand. “Just stay back.”

Turning away from her for a second, he turned his attention to the unmoving Mikey.

The younger Way was still laying on his front, flat on the ground. He was watching the flames with wide, staring eyes. He had turned as white as a ghost, and hadn't moved a muscle from the moment he had been sent crashing to the ground. He was shaking like a leaf, and was completely unaware of anything but the burning building. Ray was almost beside himself. He knew more Draculoids would be on the scene at any second, which meant they couldn't stay there too much longer. They had to get under cover, all they were all finished. 

Ray swore in his fury when suddenly Grace ran forward, her breath coming out in short, raspy gasps, as she clawed at him, trying to push her way past him. He grabbed her around the middle firmly, and picked her up effortlessly. He cursed loudly as continued to fight desperately against him.

He gripped her to him, knowing he had to take back control of this situation or they would all be lost. If he didn't make them listen to him, none of them would be getting away from there with their lives.

He looked again at Mikey, and his blood ran cold.

The younger man still hadn't spoken, or even moved. His unblinking eyes were locked on the blaze. Ray could tell that he was in shock.

How was he supposed to get through to him?

“Mikes,” Ray breathed. “We have to get out of here.”

Mikey didn't respond, he simply continued to stare.

Ray was on the verge of collapse. The only thing that was keeping him from facing what had just happened, that his two best friends had just been killed in front of him, was his conviction to keep Mikey and Grace alive. If he didn't hold it together, he would break down there and then.

And if that happened, he'd have failed Gerard. And that was an impossibility for him.

_He would make Gerard proud._

He fought back the tears threatening to spill as the anguish slowly built up inside of him. He had to keep trying. He had to get through to Mikey.

He crouched down beside the younger man.

“Mikey,” he stated, as calmly as he could muster. “Please sugar, come with me.”

Mikey gave no indication he had even heard.

Ray lost his patience. He grabbed at Mikey, trying to pull him to his feet.

 _“Mikey!_ ” Ray's voice broke, along with his heart, as he pleaded desperately; “I need you to listen to me, Mikes. _Please!”_

At last, at long last, Mikey lifted his head and regarded Ray with dead, cold eyes. There was nothing there. Mikey was disappeared behind the grief and shock he was experiencing. 

Mikey was broken.

“Gone,” he muttered. “Gerard's gone.”

“For his sake,” Ray whimpered; “And for Frankie's, we have to get away from here. Now!”

“No point,” Came the stunted reply. “No point to any of it. Not without Gerard.”

“Mike,” Ray tried again. “You don't mean that. Gerard would want you to keep going. He wanted you to live. He told you to make him proud. You can't do that dead, Sugar!” He gripped Mikey's arm. Grace was now silent, holding onto Ray, watching Mikey closely. “We have to go on. For Gerard and Frank. We have to keep their memory alive-”

“Never going to see them again...” Mikey interjected. “It's over and done with...”

“Mikey,” Ray all but sobbed. _“Please.”_

The younger man swallowed hard. Finally, he raised his head and stared up at Ray with wide eyes. Ray could have broken down at the grief and agony he saw there. But he had to hold it together.

He had to go on.

Placing Grace down on the ground beside him, he indicated for her to stay close, and then grabbed Mikey's arm, and pulled with all his might, but his boyfriend dug his heels into the sand, and refused to move. It was like trying to budge a dead weight. Ray shook his head despairingly. 

What the hell was he going to do?

“We have to get Grace out of here, Mikey.” He had to give it once last try. What choice did he have? “You know it's what Gerard and Frank would have wanted-”

At that, Mikey's eyes narrowed. The grief in those eyes momentarily changed to anger. 

“Who gives a shit what they wanted?” He snapped. “They're dead, Ray. And they're not fucking coming back!”

Ray could take no more. Gripping Mikey with both hands, he manhandled the weaker man to his feet, and then began to force him along.

“Get off me,” Mikey was yelling, tears streaming down his face. “Let me the fuck go!” He hit out at Ray, trying to dislodge his hold, but Ray clung on. “I'm not leaving! I'm staying here with my brother!”

Ray swung round, holding Mikey's shoulders tightly. “I'm not leaving you behind!” He screamed in Mikey's face. “You're all I've got! I'm not leaving you here to die too!”

“He's my brother!” Mikey was gasping now, finding it hard to breathe properly. He suddenly seemed dangerously near to dissolving into hysterics. “I can't go on without him!”

“What about me?” Ray whimpered. “How am I supposed to go on without you?”

Mikey shook his head. He wasn't hearing Ray, couldn't take in what he was saying. All he could think of was Gerard and how he was never going to see his face again, hear his voice again, listen to him sing again...

And Frank. The pain only increased when Mikey's thoughts turned to his closest friend. Frank was gone too. His best friend and his brother both lost, in the same split second. And Mikey had walked away and left them. And he had lived.

He didn't want to live without the others.

“NO!” Mikey screamed, disbelief setting in. “No. This isn't happening. Ray, stop this...”

Before Ray could speak again, before he had the chance to drag Mikey on another step, there was a sudden bright flashing blue light we caught both the devastated men by surprise, and then the ear splitting scream, filled with total horror, caused them both to freeze, staring at one another in panic.

They turned to look at Grace as one, ready to ask why she had screamed with such terror, when they saw the reason, and understood instantly why the young girl was suddenly quaking in fear.

The Coordinator was stood a few feet away, flanked by her Draculoid guards. The head of BL/I was watching the two men with an expression of amusement and, as they looked at her with clear horror on their faces, she began to smile.

“Surprise,” she said. 

Ray reacted first. Surging forward, he hurled Grace up with one arm, and then, whirling round, he grabbed Mikey by the back of his neck, and shoved him forward. “Fucking run,” he snarled.

“Where do you think you can run to?” The Coordinator called after them. 

They soon found out why. More Draculoids appeared in front of them, ray guns instantly raised and ready to fire, just waiting for the order to end the three lives before them.

There were Dracs in all directions. They were beaten.

“Throw your guns down.” She declared. “At once.”

They regarded each other, and then appreciating that the situation was not looking good, they accepted they had no choice but to obey. Mikey dropped his gun first, Ray copying his action soon after. 

“Smart,” The woman told them. “Now, get on your knees,” She tossed her hair. “All of you.”

There was no option but to obey. Very quickly, all three of them were slumped on the ground, ray gun held to the back of each of their heads. The woman nodded wit satisfaction, and then pulled out her walkie talkie, and pressed the button.

A voice quickly spoke up.

“Yes?”

“The Transporter signal is dead,” she replied. “All the power was used up getting myself and my Dracs out of the fiery trap. I cannot transport again. You must send a helicopter.” She glanced round. “I have some prisoners.”

“Gerard Way and Frank Iero?” The voice questioned.

She smirked at her watching captives, whose agony was plain to see.

“No,” she snapped back. “They were both killed. Poison was already dead when I arrived, Korse and McCracken too.” She brushed a hand through her hair. “Iero died in the explosion he himself caused. I have captured the remaining Killjoys.”

“Then kill them,” the cold voice spoke again. “They are useless without the others.”

She placed her head on one side. “Even the child?”

“Especially her. More trouble than she's worth. Copter is on the way, Helli. Just end this, and get out of there. We need to begin again. New plans of action are required now Party Poison is deceased.” His tone became crueller. “There are other rebel leaders to hunt, my dear.”

She was nodding, clearly agreeing with whoever it was, a man who had the power to give her instructions. Instructions she followed happily. Ray was stunned. This woman had always been the face of BL/I. Everyone had assumed she was in charge of the whole company. But now, maybe this was not the case. He looked up at the others. Mikey was staring straight ahead, into nothing. He would not look at Ray. Grace, meanwhile, was crying, her whole tiny being trembling in fear. All Ray wanted to do was go to her, but he knew that if he moved, his life would be snuffed out in a second.

The woman was finishing up her conversation. “Will you come?”

“As you wish.” 

The line was cut.

She turned, and regarded them closely. A cruel smile spread across her face.

“Well, so you are the Fabulous Killjoys? Not as Fabulous as I expected then.”

Ray ignored her taunts, instead staring, his heart hurting, at the burning building in the distance. It became clear very quickly to Ray what had happened. The Coordinator had transported herself and her small team of private Draculoid guards out of that building before the explosion, whatever had caused it, had destroyed the facility.

Ray now knew what had caused it. _Frank._ And those small devices he had carried around since his one on one encounter with Korse. The blast had killed Frank, Gerard – if he had even still been alive – and a small number of Dracs. But the true target, the woman who controlled Better Living and all the evil attached to the company, had escaped unharmed.

Ray, every part of him in agony, knew what this meant.

Frank had sacrificed himself for nothing.

And now, Ray, Mikey and Grace were going to pay for just how close Frank had come to bringing the whole mother fucking corporation down.

So close, but yet so far.

For the Killjoys, the future had never looked bleaker. They were two men down, and now had been hopelessly surrounded by their enemies. And despite Ray desperately trying to find any ray of light, there was no way out.

The Coordinator stood, her arms crossed over her chest, looking at each of her prisoners, her eyebrow raised, her expression smug.

“I'm honoured to meet you, at last, Jet Star, Kobra Kid. Your little group are legendary.” She smirked. “Not that there is much left of you...”

Mikey let out a low moan. She smirked.

“In fairness,” she purred; “That was a very good attempt by your friends to end my life. You rebels have always misjudged me and my company. And now, Party Poison and Fun Ghoul have paid the full price for their incompetence.

Mikey closed his eyes tightly. Ray knew why. He was trying to shut her out.

“Mikes,” Ray whispered. “It’s okay.”

The woman laughed. “I don't think anything will ever be okay for you, or for him, ever again.”

Ray gave her a look of pure hate. “They fucking beat you.”

“I'm still alive. They're not.”

_“Killjoys never die.”_

She tutted, and shook her head. “As pathetic as I expected;” She muttered, more to herself. “Such a shame I'll never meet the great Party Poison,” she continued, her voice dripping with false sympathy. “He died a fools death, in the end. A stupid, senseless waste of life.” 

“Shut it,” Ray snapped, having heard enough. “You evil bitch.” The put down was not his best retort, but it was all he could manage. “Just shut the fuck up.”

She frowned at him angrily.

“You don't matter, Jet Star;” She retorted. “You never have done.”

Her words cut through him. He turned away, not wanted her to see how affected he was.

She kept going, smiling as his discomfort. “Do you not realise? You're the forgotten man. Your views, your thoughts and your opinions are _nothing._ And you will now stay silent, Killjoy, and let me and Kobra here talk, or I will have you ghosted.” She regarded him, with disdain. “Even though you are clearly not worth the effort.”

Ray glared up at her. “Fuck you-”

He found his face pressed down into the sand then, his words smothered, unable to move, let alone continue with his abusive rant at the woman he despised.

Mikey was whimpering beside him. He eyes were still tightly shut. The mentions of Gerard had been like a knife in his heart. He still couldn't comprehend that his brother was gone. All he wanted was Gerard. But Gerard was never going to be there for him again.

The woman had moved to stand directly in front of him, and she was watching him, eye-balling him carefully.

“Open your eyes,” she told him, her tone gentle. “Look at me.”

A beat passed. And then, Mikey did as he was told. He opened his eyes carefully, and gazed up at the Japanese woman now standing over him, leaning forward.

“Good,” she breathed, moving ever closer. “What is your name?”

He hesitated for a second, before replying, in a soft voice. “Kobra Kid.”

“No,” she replied, at once. “Not your alias. I'm not interested in childish nicknames. What is your _real_ name?”

Mikey swallowed hard. Her eyes were piercing. He couldn't look away.

“Michael.”

“Michael,” she repeated, and smiled. “You were Gerard Way's brother?”

“I still am,” he replied.

She nodded. “Of course.” She reached out and took his hand. “I'm sorry for your loss.”

Mikey gaped back at her.

Ray couldn't care less about being shot now. He was almost out of his mind with fury. He wanted that fucking bitch away from his boyfriend. He struggled to his feet, shoving the Draculoid that had been positioned behind him backwards.

“Stay the fuck away from him!” Ray bellowed. “You don't even have the right to speak to him, you murderous, drugged up, corporate _whore!”_

The Coordinator snarled at him in response. “You were warned,” she snapped. Then, she gestured to the nearest Drac. “Kill him.”

The Draculoid took aim. Ray just stood there, breathing hard. He didn't try to defend himself.

“NO!” Mikey squeezed her hand painfully, hard enough for her to gasp. “Please.”

She watched him. She was completely thrown by this man, this hateful rebel. One of the men that had sought, and very nearly caused, her destruction. But there was so much more to him than she had expected. The torture he was going through, his sense of loss, and grief at his brothers passing, it moved her. She had not been moved for so long. She didn't need emotions. She had her drugs. But the Killjoy, he was different. His pain, so obvious, so hurtful, and his unimaginable beauty, inside and out, there for everyone to see. She couldn't take her eyes off of him. He had bewitched her.

“Wait,” she murmured, and the Drac paused, blinking at her. Ignoring her servants, the woman then knelt down beside Mikey, and stroked his wrist. Mikey looked down, confused. Was she actually showing him real affection?

“If your brother,” she whispered in his ear, so only he could hear her, “was any where near as fascinating as you are, then no wonder Korse was so obsessed with him. I'd follow you to the ends of the Earth, Michael Way...”

He stared back at her, not knowing how to respond.

She stood up straight again then.

“If you want me to spare their pointless lives, then I can do that,” she continued. “They mean nothing to me.” He gaze flickered from Ray, to Grace. “I will spare them both, they can walk away from here unhurt, if you were to come with me.”

Ray shook his head at once. “Mikes, no...”

“Be silent!” She hissed. And then, to Mikey; “Do you want them to die?”

“No,” Mikey replied instantly. “I can't lose them too.”

The woman smiled. She knew that, with no doubt in her mind, that he was completely broken. Which meant, he could be controlled.

And reprogrammed. If she could just get him to the city. He would be hers then. In every sense.

“Don't lose them then,” the woman whispered. “I will spare them. For you.” She held out her hand. “Just come with me, Michael. Let me take all that pain, and all that hurt, and all that grief, away.” She gently pushed his hair out of his eyes. _“Come with me.”_

Mikey gazed at her with dead eyes. And then, just for a second, his pain filled stare met Ray's own. Tears fell as both men looked at the other. Ray was trembling, shaking his head from side to side as he silently pleaded with Mikey not to do this. Mikey managed a tiny smile, and a nod of reassurance, as he took in everything he could about the other man. The man he had shared everything with. The most important man on the planet. The man he loved.

And then, he took her offered hand. With a shaky, empty voice, he whispered; “Okay.”

She smirked.

Ray threw himself forward, but was restrained by two Draculoids. He struggled hopelessly, utterly horrified by what Mikey had just agreed to.

“Mikey, you can't do this! You can't give in!”

“Silent!” She snapped. But Ray took no notice.

“Not after everything,” Ray was pleading; “Not after how much Gerard went through. You can't just take his place. For him, and for Frank, you can't just give up! I need you! Please.”

He was openly crying now. And he felt no shame.

The Coordinator was smiling at him now, with complete triumph. She helped Mikey up, and then nodded at him approvingly. “You made the right choice, Michael;” She offered, ignoring the raging Ray Toro.

“You promise to let them go?” He asked her.

“Yes.”

“Mikey...” Ray whimpered, still not wanting to accept that this was happening. “You can't leave me too.”

Mikey grimaced. “I can't go on with this, Ray. Not without Gerard and Frank. I'm just too tired.”

Ray's heart was breaking. “And what about me?” He hesitated, before adding, “ I love you.”

A tremor went through Mikey. “I'm sorry,” he moaned.

The Coordinator was laughing softly. And as well she might, Ray noted, in his agony. She'd won.

They were all startled by the sound of a helicopter in the distance. As they watched, the flying machine drew nearer, and it prepared to land a couple of hundred feet from where they stood.

The woman reached out and took Mikey's hand. She smiled at Ray, who was shaking his head, clearly in denial.

“You are free to go.” She told him. “You and the girl.”

“I'm not going anywhere,” he snarled back. “And nor is he.”

She grinned evilly, and then pulled on Mikey's hand. “Come.”

Mikey hesitated. He was chewing on his lower lip as he regarded Ray. He didn't want to go, that was obvious. His gaze moved to the burning building in the distance and he visibly shook.

“It's over, Ray;” Mikey whispered. “Just take Grace, and go. No one else has to die.”

“Except for you, if you go with that bitch.”

The Co coordinator’s eyes blazed. “It's time to go home, Michael.”

Ray gestured to the wrecked facility. To Gerard and Frank's tomb.

“She did that. She killed them. If you do this, you're destroying Frank and Gee's memories. You know that you can't do this.”

The helicopter had landed. The woman was looking over her shoulder impatiently.

She tugged again on Mikey's hand. The Dracs surrounding Ray pushed the Killjoy back, making their intentions clear. Ray was supposed to be leaving. Only problem was, he never received the memo...

“I'm not fucking leaving you, Mikey!” Ray shouted. “You hear me? I'll always be here, waiting for you. _I love you.”_

Mikey was being led away. He tried not to listen to Ray's shouts, trying to block them out. What choice did he really have? He couldn't stand by and watch Ray die too. Or Gracie. This was the only way out for them all.

He glanced across at the woman who had given him that way out. He didn't understand why.

She threw him a sideways look, and then gestured for the Draculoids walking beside her.

“Go back,” she ordered. “And kill them.” Her eyes was flaming. “Destroy the Killjoy scum.”

“NO!” Mikey shrieked. “YOU PROMISED!”

She merely laughed. 

He let go off her hand, and whirled around, trying to get back to Ray.

“RAY!” He bellowed, and saw Ray looking at him, in panic. “SHE FUCKING LIED! RUN!”

Ray blinked, and then saw a bunch of Dracs charging back toward them, the few still standing nearby were also raising their guns. He swore angrily, and grabbed at Grace.

“Come on sweetheart.” He muttered. “Time to go.”

The woman glared when she saw the two remaining Killjoys fight there way away from the Draculoids encircling them, and take off hastily. She threw Mikey a dirty look.

“Hold him!” She snapped, and Mikey was grabbed and restrained by two near by Dracs.

“Bitch!” Mikey snarled. “You fucking bitch!”

She shrugged, and reached out a gently caressed his face. “You feel differently soon enough Michael,” She purred.

Mikey turned his face away, disgusted.

She grinned, and then watched as more Draculoids ran forward, rushing past the Coordinator and Mikey, giving chase after Ray and Grace. Flanked by two of the drones, a man approached. Mikey stared at him, the man instantly giving him a strong feeling of unease, and something else. Familiarity. Had Mikey met this man before? He was wearing a long black robe and a matching black mask, which covered his face almost entirely. All that could be seen were his cruel green eyes. 

And those eyes were now narrowed squarely at Mikey.

“What is this?” He barked.

“Get him to the helicopter,” she hissed, gesturing to Mikey, who was now fighting tooth and claw to get away from his Draculoid captors.

The masked man eyed Mikey up and down, and then gave the woman a curious glance. “We are taking prisoners?” He enquired, his distorted voice sounding monotonous. “I wasn't told.”

“He belongs to me now.” She snapped.

Her companion shrugged, and then he grabbed the struggling Mikey around the throat himself, and began to drag him forcefully toward the waiting helicopter.

The Coordinator nodded her approval, and then glanced back over at the two fleeing Killjoys, the only two left. She watched, amused, as Draculoids gave chance, guns raised, ready to carry out her orders. 

Very quickly, Ray and Grace found themselves pinned down against a wall, and as Ray pushed Grace behind him, breathing hard, as he stared at the approaching Draculoids. There were so many of them, and they were coming closer, and closer. Grace was whimpering behind him, her hands over her ears. Ray looked at each of their masked executors, and closed his eyes as he saw them taking aim-

He waited for the blast that would end his life.

His last thought was of Mikey, Gerard and Frank.

_'Gerard, I'm sorry. I couldn't save him.'_

A loud shout suddenly ran out, echoing around the small area. Ray kept his eyes closed, not daring to hope.

“Fucking come on!”

An explosion of ray gun blasts erupted all around him, and Ray threw himself down to the ground, dragging Grace down beside him. There were shouts, and cries, and screams from all around, and Ray had no idea what was happening. He didn't know whether he was going to live or die, all he knew was, something had taken the Dracs attentions away. Something had come to help...

Suddenly, his arm was being tugged on, and he was being dragged up. He looked up in surprise, to find a man standing over him, his face hidden behind a rebel mask, pulling at him. He looked past the man, to see the Draculoids were all fighting armed rebels, all around them. Glancing down, he saw Grace had already scrambled to her feet, and was being pulled along by a woman rebel, desperately shrieking his name.

“Come on, Toro!” The man above Ray shouted. “Get the fuck up!”

Ray was stunned. Who the hell was this? How did he know him?”

“W-who are y-you?” Ray stuttered, recoiling slightly.

“No time,” the newcomer hissed. “Just get moving!”

Ray pulled free. “No, I can't go. I have to get back to Mikey-”

The man ripped off his mask. “Mikey's gone, Ray!”

Ray stared in shock. Mike Dirnt, formerly of Green Day, and the man who had been missing for some time, causing Billie Joe Armstrong no end of worry, was gazing down at him, with a mixture of worry and anger. “We can't stay out in the open like this!”

Ray pushed him away. “I have to get back to that helicopter! Let go of me.”

Mike took hold of his shirt and pulled him closer. “There are too many! And I saw Mikey being dragged away. You can't get to him, trust me.”

“Fuck you, Mike!” Ray shouted, and then he had wrestled his way clear of Mike and was racing back across the sand. Ray gun blasts whizzed past him from left to right but he took no heed. Tripping over an abandoned gun, Ray picked it up, and then continued on. The helicopter was still there, right in front of him. It wasn't over yet. He could still get there, he could still save Mikey...

Suddenly, Mikey was there. He could see him, being dragged backwards into the helicopter by another masked man. The 'Copter was ready to take off, with its blades spinning round and round. He had seconds to spare before he would lose Mikey forever, just as he had lost Gerard and Frank. Ray couldn't help himself. He screamed as loud as he could.

“MIKEY! I'M COMING!”

Mikey looked up, and then instantly began to struggle and yell in earnest.

“Ray! Help me! _Ray!_ ”

Ray tore forward, only for the tall man holding Mikey to fire his ray gun in his direction, and the blast missed him by inches. Another blast actually burned Ray's hair, it was so close, and he had no choice but to throw himself down again. He managed to get off two shots of his own before a large weight suddenly threw itself on to him, pinning him to the sand. He began to struggle, using his elbows to try and force what he assumed had to be a Drac off of him.

“Ray,” a voice hissed in his ear. “You can't. It's suicide.”

Mike again. What the hell was he trying to do? Whose side was he fucking on?

“No! Get off me! They'll take him. I can't fucking let them-”

“Think of Gerard, Ray. And Frank. Where are they? We can go find them-”

Ray's heart scattered into a million pieces. “They're dead.”

Mike stopped. “Fuck.” He muttered. “I'm sorry.”

“Mikey is all I've fucking got!” Ray snarled. “So get the _fuck_ off of me. Let me save him!”

“You don't understand,” Mike snarled. “That man holding Mikey. I've seen him before.”

“Fucking so?” Ray couldn't deal with this. All he wanted was to get to the man he loved.

“He's the exterminator that killed Tre. And he'll do the same to you, and to me, if you don't stop.”

That did it. Ray went limp in Mike's grip. He raised his head, tears cascading down his face, as he saw the masked man leaning out of the door, yelling for the Draculoids to scatter. The Exterminator then looked up and suddenly noticed Mike for the first time. He raised his gun again.

“Shit-” Mike hissed, and then both he and Ray dived for cover as the Exterminator fired repeatedly at them.

When they were finally able to edge their way back from behind the wall. It was already too late. Mikey was in the helicopter, the Coordinator and the Masked Exterminator on either side of him. His terrified boyfriend was banging his fist desperately against the window, and though he couldn't hear a word, Ray knew Mikey was screaming his name.

He had never felt so powerless. He could do nothing, as the helicopter lifted up in the air, and soared away, with Mikey trapped inside.

Mike placed his hand on Ray's shoulder and squeezed, offering him comfort.

“We have to get away from here, Ray.” Mike told him. “You, me and Grace. They'll be looking for you. We have to keep running.”

Ray couldn't speak. He couldn't even look round. He watched the helicopter growing fainter and fainter until it was nothing but a speck in the distance. Out of the corner of his eye, he could still see the flames flicking up from the burning building – the constant reminder to Ray that Gerard and Frank were no more.

_He had lost everything._

He couldn't argue, or bring himself to fight, as Mike forced him away, running past the remaining Dracs and rebels, the ones that were still alive. He could only assume they were following Grace and her rescuers. Somewhere where they could start again. Live to fight another day.

But there was only one thought echoing around inside Ray's mind.

_'I'm sorry, Mikey. I've lost you too.'_

TBC


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, guys. There is a sequel, Purifying Flame, that is a WIP. I'll start posting that on here next week, though there will be a longer wait between chapters! I'm off to Morrisoncon today so won't be posting anything until next week... so bye for now!

_Another night. Another house. Another day without them._

It had been three months since _that_ day, and Ray Toro was now a broken man. The last of the Killjoys was emotionally, and physically, exhausted. He stared out of the window, into the darkness, a desperately needed glass of liquor in his hand. Ray took a sip, letting out a deep sigh as the sweet taste of rum ran down his throat, comforting him. 

It was yet another dark, hot night. Every night was exactly the same, lonely, empty, cold, and it had been that way since he, Mike and Grace had been on the run. Since he'd lost the three most important people in his life. Being on the run from the Corporation meant not only being unable to stay in one place for longer than one night, it also meant Ray had never had a chance to grieve the loss. He knew how important it was for them to keep on moving, so he had kept quiet, kept his emotions in check, and had run beside the others. The loneliness they felt also increased due to the fact that they would put anyone who was good enough to protect them into serious danger if they chose to hang around for too long.

Get in, and get out. That was the way it had to be.

The exact same thing was happening at that very moment. They had arrived at a hidden base, completely by accident, and had been invited in, for rest and refreshments. They had had no choice but to accept the offer, against their better judgements. Mike had seen the opportunity at once, asking to use the rebels radio in an effort to contact Defying, and Billie.

So he had left Grace and Ray behind, already excited at the prospect of talking to Billie. Ray couldn't blame him.

What he would give to speak to Mikey, just one last time...

Ray shivered, turned away from the window, and eyed Grace, who was sitting at a table in the centre of the room. They were supposed to be eating the food that their host, a kindly old professor, had laid out for them, but Ray had not touched a single thing on his plate, and Grace had been merely playing with her dinner.

Their latest host, Professor Jonas Rivers, cleared his throat.

“You should eat,” he told them. “You've travelled a long way.”

Ray glanced up, and gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you so much for your hospitality,” he whispered. “We won't be a burden on you for long.”

Rivers shook his head. “It is no burden, my friends. You are welcome to stay here for as long as you need to.” He gestured towards the doorway. “We're grateful for the company. This base has been secluded from the other rebels for a long time, recently even out of signal of the Doctor's broadcasts. We're just pleased to be able to help you, Ray.”

Ray gave him a tiny smile, and then glanced down. He, Mike, Grace had been running since… since _it_ had happened. They could never stay anywhere for too long as BL/Industries had stepped up their hunt for the last of the Killjoys, even putting a price on Ray's head, which every bounty hunter in the Zones seemed willing to make a claim for. Ray was top of the Corporations extermination list. Never knowing who they could trust, they had crossed the Zones, their desperate journey leading them from one rebel base to another, meeting both friends and foes, until they had finally arrived at their current location, deep inside Zone 4. They had not known that the refuge had even existed. Around thirty people were living in the old house, looked after by the Professor. They had welcomed the three travellers into their base, and allowed them to get refreshed, even fed and watered, and had told them that they were welcome to stay for the night. Ray and Mike had accepted at once, knowing they couldn't, Grace especially, continue on without a break. So, they had agreed to stay there, just for the one night, and already Ray was regretting his decision. The last thing he wanted to do was risk any more innocent people's lives.

It had been three months since they had lost Frank and Gerard, and the pain never went away. It was always there, returning to haunt him whenever he closed his eyes. 

_And Mikey._

He didn't even want to think about Mikey...

Ray looked up again, once more regarding the old man. “We're all grateful to you, Professor, but the longer we're here, the more danger for you and every man, woman and child in this place.”

The Professor frowned. “ _Every_ day is dangerous for us. It would be inhuman for me to send you back out there, exhausted, on a cruel night like this one.” He placed his hands together. “If we lose our humanity, Ray, just like _them_ , then what else is there?”

Ray nodded, and then switched his gaze to Grace. “Come on, sweetheart;” He told her. “Finish up. It's late.”

She didn't even react, just continued to poke the beans around her plate. 

Ray felt a ripple of anger. 

“Grace,” he began, more firmly, but was interrupted when the door suddenly flew open, and Mike entered.

Ray instantly stood up, looking toward the newcomer expectantly.

“How’s it going, Mike?” He enquired hurriedly. “Any luck getting a signal through to the Doc?”

Mike let out a deep sigh, and shook his head. He looked defeated.

“Nothing,” he replied. “Absolutely fucking nothing.”

The elderly Professor grimaced, placing down his fork. “We haven't received any broadcasts for weeks, as I told you;” He said, some irritation in his tone. “Better Living must be blocking the transmissions. It is like I told you, my friends. We are very much on our own out here. We’re used to it.”

Mike glanced at him, and gestured helplessly. “I hoped I'd find a way,” he replied softly. “But it’s the same everywhere we go. We can't get a message through to the Doc.” His eyes met Ray's, and Ray saw the panic and defeat there. He wondered if his own mirrored the same agony? Probably. Mike paused for a second longer, before adding; “No one is coming to help us, are they?”

Ray stood, pushing his own disappointment and fears away. He had to keep going. They all did.

“I don't want to put these people in any more danger than we already have, Mike.” Ray told his friend. He suddenly paled. “We have to keep on moving, you know he's right behind us. He's never going to stop...” He broke off, glancing away.

Mike frowned, then nodded, solemnly. “Agreed, Ray.” He glanced at Grace. “We could all do with a rest though. This base is well defended, we'll be okay. We'll leave first thing in the morning.”

“It’s decided then,” the Professor noted, with a small smile. “Now, I need to do my rounds. I’ll be back.”

He hurried from the room.

Ray watched him go, and then closed his eyes momentarily.

_'He's coming for me. He always will. He won’t rest until I’m dead...’'_

“Why do we have to go? I like it here.”

Ray, his thoughts interrupted, opened his eyes again, to see Grace watching him. He frowned.

“You know why, honey;” He answered her. “It's not safe.”

“But I'm tired of running, Jet.”

Ray went to her then, putting his arm around her. “I know you are, baby. But we've got no choice. Not if we want to stay alive. Gotta keep running.”

Grace looked up at him then, with big, sad eyes.

“I miss them, Ray.”

Ray felt his own grief, the pain and loss he kept so deeply buried, building within him, and he suddenly felt the urge to retch. He swallowed it back down again before facing the devastated child once more.

“So do I, kiddo.”

“Why can't we find the Doc?” Grace moaned. “Or Billie. He'd know what to do-”

Mike looked up sharply at that, and then quickly looked away again, swallowing hard. Ray gave him an apologetic look, and then tussled Grace's hair fondly. “We can’t get a transmission, baby girl. You know that. We're trying...”

Grace grimaced, and wriggled, pushing Ray away from her. “Poison would know what to do...”

Ray stood up, and quickly walked across the room, away from her, his fists clenched. “Well, Poison isn't here, is he?”

“Why did it have to happen?” She sounded so young, so pitiful. It broke Ray's heart. But what could he say?

“I don't know, Grace.”

“I don't understand, Ray.” Her voice was softer now, though he could hear her sobs. “Why did he and Ghoul have to die?”

Ray couldn't handle it any more. “Because shit happens!”

Grace's bottom lip trembled. Ray turned slowly and looked at her, guilt flooding through him. She was staring at him with horror and betrayal. But before he could speak, to take it back, she got up and ran out of the room.

“Gracie!” Ray yelled, setting off after her, but being restrained by Mike. “I'm sorry, baby! Gracie!” 

“Just give her a minute, buddy.” Mike hissed, tightening his hold. “She'll be fine, she's just tired.” He glanced down. “She hasn’t slept for days... None of us have...”

Ray nodded, then let out a deep sigh. Mike released him, gave him a sad smile, and then looked away. Ray was devastated. He knew what Grace was going through, knew how difficult this was for her. Of course he knew. What he didn't know though was what the hell he supposed to do to help her? He missed them all too. Every moment without his brothers was like a fresh ray gun blast to his heart. But they were all gone, and they weren't coming back. It was just the three of them now, and they owed it to the memory of those they left behind to keep _on_ fucking going.

A loud yell from outside brought Ray abruptly out of his musings. He leapt to his feet as the shouting continued, and then gasped in panic when it turned to screaming. Mike was beside Ray at once, staring at his friend, shock and fear on his face. Before they could fully digest what was happening, the Professor ran back in the room, pulling a crying Grace along with him. His terror was evident as he all but threw the child towards Mike, who grabbed hold of her at once.

“Professor,” Ray began, stepping forward, his hand on his ray gun. “What the fuck-”

“Go!” The other man snapped, cutting across him, and pointing toward a small door in the wall, a second escape route that the rebels had built, just in case of emergency. Which was exactly what they were all facing.

“What's happening?” Mike threw in.

“They've found you!” The Professor exclaimed. “Someone must have betrayed you, betrayed us all. I'm sorry-”

Mike stepped forward. “What the fuck is this? Who-?”

“No time!” The Professor snapped. “You have to get away from here! Now. We are buying you some time, but we can’t hold them for long.” He looked back over his shoulder. “They look like the elite guard to me. They know you're here! You have to go now!” 

Mike gestured angrily. “What about the children, the families? You need help, we can't just leave them-”

“They're dead,” The Professor replied, bluntly. “They are killing everyone.”

Mike back away. “No,” he muttered, “I promised to protect them-”

The Professor gestured desperately. “You have to leave!”

Ray stepped forward quickly, blaster in his hand. “But we can't just go, we can help you-”

The Professor shoved him backwards. “Don't you understand, Ray Toro? _He's_ here! It's you he wants, and he doesn't care who he cuts down to get to you. _No one_ can help us now.”

Ray just stared at him, speechless.

The Professor was beside himself.

“Please, GO!”

Mike didn’t say another word; he simply crossed the room and scooped up Grace, carrying her toward the window. He paused, glancing across at Ray.

Ray was staring at the Professor, breathing hard.

“You know you have to go.” The Professor told him, softly. “I know who he is, and what he means to you, but there is nothing you can do. Keep running, Ray. Keep breathing.”

The Professor held his gun up in salute, and then turned and rushed towards the door, his eyes widening at whatever horrific sight greeted him beyond the door. They could still hear the ray gun blasts and screaming from just beyond. With a deep breath to prepare him, the Professor threw open the door furiously, and then ran forward, with a cry of pure rage.

Ray stayed where he was, his eyes locked on the door, as if he expected the old man to come running back through any second. But he didn't come back.

“Ray,” Mike said quickly, interrupting his thoughts. “We have to go.” When Ray didn't reply at once, Mike grabbed him by the arm, and swung him round. “ _And that’s a fucking order!”_

Ray rounded on him furiously. “Who the fuck made you the leader of me?”

Mike opened his mouth to argue further when they both heard the sound of Draculoids getting closer. They looked towards the exit and sure enough, one Draculoid was half way through the door, his gun aimed and ready.

Mike and Ray didn't hesitate. With Grace safe in Mike's arms, they sped towards the secret passage, the Dracs literally right behind them.

And, just as Ray was about to follow Mike and Grace into the darkness, he gave one last look over his shoulder, and the sight made his blood run cold. The Exterminator he had heard so much about, the man who had haunted his dreams every night since that fateful day, was standing in the doorway, watching him through the copy Killjoy mask he always wore. His hazel eyes were empty, and cold. This was the man Ray had dreaded to meet, but would also have given anything to see again. Ray, struggling to hold his mixed emotions at bay, couldn't drag his eyes away from the other man. Just as the Exterminator took aim with his gun, Mike's desperate shout suddenly brought Ray back to the land of the living, and he forced himself to turn his back on the Exterminator and scramble through the tunnel, trying to keep up with the others.

“It's him,” Ray muttered. “It's really him.”

“I'm sorry, Ray;” Mike told him. “But we have to keep moving.” 

All but dragging Ray along with him, and still carrying Grace, Mike kept going. Finally, they arrived at the end of their escape route, tumbled through the gap, and found themselves in another small room, completely at a dead end. They stared in disbelief, looking around the room hopelessly; trying to find a way out, although they both knew there was none. They heard a noise behind them, and they knew they had very little time.

They had to move quickly.

Ray took Grace from Mike, carried her across the room to a cupboard in the far corner. He pulled open the small door, and saw there was just enough room for the small child. He quickly beckoned Grace closer. “Hide here!” He urged. “Just keep quiet!”

“But-”

“Don't argue this time, Gracie! He's coming! Just _move_ , for me!”

Grace could clearly hear the desperation in his tone, as she didn't argue again. She rushed forward, scrambling into the small passage, and pulling the door shut after her.

Mike and Ray then stood, side-by-side, staring at the only exit, and waiting for their hunter to catch up with his prey.

They didn't have to wait long.

The Exterminator was climbing down from the tunnel entrance, his eyes fixed on the two men before him. The Killjoy mask was a cruel echo of what, and who, he had once been. But that was the idea behind why he wore it. Just another torture for Ray to endure. Probably the Co-ordinator's idea of a “joke.” Ray could only shake his head dumbly. The masked agent merely glared back at him, though he didn't speak. Then, very carefully, he began to raise his ray gun.

“Keep back!” Mike snapped at Ray, shoving him roughly out of the way. Before Ray could recover, Mike had surged forward to meet the newcomer, shouting obscenities, and careering into him, sending him backwards, before he had the chance to aim his weapon.

Ray, stunned, stood and watched as Mike landed blow after blow on M-, on the Exterminator's chest. Mike's superiority didn't last for long though, as the Exterminator quickly recovered, and gripped the other man's wrists, holding him steady. Mike struggled, but he didn't have a chance. The Exterminator easily gained the upper hand over the far weaker Mike, subduing him before placing his hand's around his opponent’s throat, and then slowly began to throttle him. Ray, coming to his senses and yelling his outrage, threw himself at their aggressor, forcing him away from Mike. The former Green Day bassist crumpled to the ground, having been starved of oxygen. Ray called his name desperately, but it was useless. His fellow rebel was out cold.

The Exterminator peered down at Mike for a moment, apparently contemplating whether to finish the helpless man off. Ray edged backwards, away from the masked man, closer to where Grace was still, thankfully, hidden from view.

Ray could only pray the girl had the sense to stay where she was. Whatever was about to happen.

Finally, the Exterminator averted his eyes from Mike's prone form, looked up, and his gaze fell on Ray.

Ray saw him, clearly and closely, for the first time. He let out an audible gasp and brought a shaky hand up to his mouth. All he could do was stare, his mouth stuck in an “oh” shape. The Exterminator approached him, his gun ready, until he had backed Ray right up against the wall. The BL/Industries puppet was looking Ray up and down, seemingly intrigued by the other man.

Finally, he raised his gun and pointed it straight between Ray's widened eyes.

“You are Jet Star and you are a member of the terrorist rebel group: The Killjoys.” He barked. “You have been targeted for...”

Ray was shaking his head in disbelief. _That_ voice. To hear that voice... he had believed that he would never hear it again. Unable to stay quiet, he cut across the other man. “Don't you know me?”

The masked man hesitated for a second, before replying, emotionless; “You are the Fabulous Killjoy known as Jet Star and you are...”

“No! Save me the scripted speech. Listen to me. God, please listen to me. Its me, its Ray...”

The Exterminator shrugged. “You are nothing.”

Ray flinched at the words. He had forced himself to ignore the rumours, and even what his own head was telling him who the brutal new Exterminator was that had all the rebels running scared, he had refused to believe it. This new murderer BL/Industries had unleashed upon the Zones, sent to hunt all rebels down and kill them one by one, had quickly become legendary, as had his evil and cruel deeds. He didn't just kill men, women and children, he also took great pleasure in his acts of terror. And, despite the whispers, and everyone he met telling him that he had to accept what was ithe undoubtable truth, Ray simply would not believe it. Because it couldn't be him doing these unspeakable things. It couldn't be. Not his Mikey.

 _Mikey_ wasn't capable of it. He wasn't. He'd have died first.

_It was not him._

That was what Ray had told himself repeatedly, until he had actually started to believe his own lies and excuses. 

But now, Ray couldn't hide any more. He had no choice but to finally face the truth. 

“Kobra Kid.” He whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. “Please.”

The man who had once been his lover was tilting his head, apparently confused by Ray's intriguing response to him. “My name is Michael;” He replied coldly. “And I don't know you, rebel scum.”

Ray took one uncertain step forward. The other man moved quickly, placing his hand on Ray's chest, pinning him against the wall. For Ray, The Exterminator's s touch seemed to burn, and he let out a low moan.

“Remember me.” He whispered. “You have to think, Kobra. Remember Frank...”

The masked man tilted his head slightly. “You have been sentenced to death for your crimes against-”

_“Remember Gerard!”_

The Exterminator blinked. He stopped his monotone speech, his eyes boring into Ray's. However, he didn't lower his gun.

Ray tried again. “Think about your brother. Think about Gerard. Remember what he meant to you...”

There was a moment's hesitation before the other man replied. “I have no brother.”

Ray trembled.

“Not any more, no. Because they murdered him. But you have to remember him, Kobra. I know you're still in there-”

“That is not my name.”

“Kobra-”

“ _My name is Michael!_ ” With an angry snarl, he pistol-whipped Ray, taking him by surprise and the force of the blow knocking him to the ground. The Exterminator then pointed his gun directly at the other's man's face.

“You are a Killjoy,” he barked. “I have been ordered to destroy you-”

“Then what are you waiting for?” Ray whispered, the despair evident in his strained and pitiful voice. “If you really _are_ dead, then I've got nothing left to fight for. Just do it.”

Michael stared at him.

Ray closed his eyes. And waited.

He heard the other man recharge his gun, and he forced himself to stay calm. He would die bravely, just like Frank and Gerard. He would be with them soon. He just wished it didn't have to end like this...

He suddenly realised that he had one more thing he needed to say.

“I love you, Mikey.”

And then, he braced for the sound, the only warning he would receive that he life was about to end.

Michael, the proud and determined BL/Industries Exterminator, stared down at the surrendered rebel, his gun hand trembling. His finger was covering the trigger and every instinct was screaming at him to fire, to end it, and complete the mission she had set for him. She wanted this man dead, and Michael did not care one iota about his life. He deserved to die.

But still Michael didn't pull the trigger.

He gritted his teeth. He had never hesitated during an execution before. What was wrong with him?

Michael grimaced, and squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them again seconds later, he saw Ray was now staring up at him, his eyes wide with sadness, and something akin to hope.

That made Michael bristle. Did the fool actually dare to hope that he would be spared?

Just who was this man? Why was he familiar? 

Why was Michael so drawn to him? 

And why the hell was he actually reaching out a shaky hand toward the rebel?

To Michael's amazement, the insane rebel actually had the nerve to outstretch his own hand in return. He then heard him utter one desperate and devastated word:

“ _Mikey...?_ ”

Michael gasped. Suddenly, he was no longer in that dark, dusty, miserable building. He was in a wide open space, and there was a huge crowd before him, bigger than any cheering crowd he had ever seen in the City. It seemed to go on forever. He stared out at them, and they looked happy, exhilirated. So much delight. But it was different, not the controlled happiness brought on by the Company's drugs, this was real celebration, real passion, and real love. And they were staring at him, calling to him, screaming with pleasure and a passion that he didn't even know existed.

He was holding something. He assumed it was a gun. He glanced down. No, it wasn't a gun, he was in fact suddenly aware that it wasn't a weapon of any kind. It was – something else. Something special. He loved it. He looked to his right. There was a man, seemingly crazed, staring straight up to the ceiling, lost in the moment. Michael then glanced to his left. 

There was a man, with long dark hair. He knew this man, and he was beaming at him with pure love in his smile. 

Michael gazed back at this man. _Who was he? What was his name?_

He looked past him then, at another figure, standing just the other side of the man that he didn't know, had never met, but somehow knew better than anyone else in the world. The far left man stopped playing, turned his head to meet his gaze, and then winked at him.

Michael saw a flash of his face. 

_No…_

And then he was back. Back in the cold, empty room. Back in the real world. And the same face was staring at him as had just been in his daydream…

“Who are you?” Michael whispered.

“I'm your family,” Ray moaned.

There was a noise coming from just down the corridor. Michael looked over his shoulder sharply, his eyes narrowed. He then adjusted the controls on his gun once more, and aimed it at Ray one more time.

He gritted his teeth.

He couldn't kill this man. God help him. He couldn't do it.

He set the controls to stun, and fired.

Ray slumped to the floor, his head facing away from Michael. The Exterminator stood over him for a few moments, breathing harshly.

Three Draculoids ran into the room at that moment, all looking toward Michael at once for instructions.

“The house is secure, Sir,” one reported. “All rebels are ghosted.”

“Get out,” Michael snapped, glaring at them. “We are done here.”

They backed off at once, almost following over themselves in their haste to obey him.

When he was alone again, he turned quickly, stalking forward a few feet down the passageway, and then reached down into the shadows. He dragged a struggling, sobbing little girl into his arms, and held her close him, grimacing as he heard her little heart thumping against her chest.

He gazed down at her, knowing instantly who she was. She was the Killjoy child known as Missile Kid, and his ordersr had included her too. She was a Killjoy, which meant the Co-ordinator needed her dead just as badly as she had Jet Star. But Michael quickly realised as he stared down at the quivering girl that whatever had prevented him from killing Jet Star was also how affecting him where the girl was concerned. He could no more kill this child than he could any in the City. She was an innocent. He would disregard his orders and take her back to the City with him, where she could start again, become a part of their perfect society.

He tightened his grip on the child. She fought like a wild animal, screaming and sobbing, arms and legs everywhere as she tried to fight him. He gritted his teeth and then finally, realising he had no choice; he struck her across the head with his gun. At last, she fell still. 

He spoke into his communicator then, stating one simple order: “All Drac forces, return to the city. The mission is complete.”

He didn't need to hear from any of his Draculoid slaves. They would obey him. It’s all they ever did.

Still holding the child in his arms, the Exterminator gave the prone Killjoy one last look, before activating the transporting device. He closed his eyes as he transported out.

The job was done.

There was no sound or movement in the room he left behind. Neither Mike nor Ray stirred. It was as quiet as the grave.

Michael opened his eyes. He had never liked the odd sensations the transporter caused. Sudden nausea and the unawareness that occurred for a few seconds after the transportation always knocked him for six. It took him a few moments to remember what had happened, and why he had the small girl in his arms.

Then he remembered Jet Star, and fear struck him.

He had allowed the Killjoy to live. He had been prepared to kill him, as she had ordered, but something had stopped him. Something deep inside had prevented him from ridding the world of a rebel scum that had caused the Corporation endless problems. He had decided, in the last moment, to stun him instead, and had left him there. He hadn’t even captured him.

He was an exterminator. He didn't show mercy, he didn't have feelings. All that mattered was the company, and the mission.

All that mattered was _her._

He gave himself a small shake. He could worry about the Killjoy later. For now, he had other problems. It wasn't only Jet Star that he had shown mercy to. There was the child to think about too.

She was lying still, quietly sobbing, her head turned away from him. He frowned, and then placed her on the ground, signalling for her to stand. She fell forward, clinging to his leg. He shook her off angrily.

“Be quiet,” he hissed at her. “Enough tears.”

She didn't respond, and neither did she stop crying. She simply kept sobbing, her hold on him growing ever tighter. He gave her a withering look, and then turned away, beckoning to the nearest city worker.

“You,” he snapped. “Come here.”

The man dropped what he was doing at once, just as Michael knew he would, and came rushing over.

“Yes, Exterminator?”

Michael pushed the trembling girl towards the man. “Take this child to the education centre.”

There was no please, or thank you. There were only commands. And he knew he would be obeyed. He was always obeyed.

Sure enough, the man nodded obediently, and then grabbed Grace roughly by the arm and began to drag her away.

Grace's reaction stunned to his very core.

She immediately started to scream, pleading with the man to let her go, and begging Michael, or this other man, called Mikey, for help. He watched her struggling helplessly to get back to him, and he was completely astounded. What did she expect him to do? She was a rebel; she was fortunate to still be breathing.

_Why was she still breathing?_

The man holding her was seizing her, pulling her away. She was whimpering in pain now, as he manhandled her away. Michael turned, glaring, and called after the Citizen.

“Don't hurt her,” he snapped. “She is a child.”

The man stared at him, looking utterly confused. “She is a criminal, Sir.”

Michael blinked. Suddenly, that sentence sounded ridiculous to him. She was a child! What kind of threat was she? He didn't want her hurt.

He bought a weary hand up to his forehead. “Just be kind to her,” he retorted. “Do as I say.”

The rebel was still calling for him as she was, more gently, forced away. He watched her go, shaking his head in confusion. Why did he even care about her? Why did she want to stay with him so desperately? He'd never met her.

_And yet..._

He turned and walked away hurriedly. He needed to clear his head. 

What was the matter with him?

He gave himself a furious shake. What was this all about? Who was the girl? And why did she have such an affect on him? Michael didn't care about the rebels, he had never cared. They were nothing but fodder to him, criminals and trash. So, why had he spared this particular girl, when he had already killed so many before her?

As he rushed through the shiny, white corridors of the citadel building, trying to sort out his jumbled thoughts, he didn't even notice that someone was following him. Someone who seemed top be very interested in where he was going.

Michael knew he had to get to her. He had a report to deliver, and plus she would make everything clear and simple. She would make it easy. She always did. 

But still one nagging doubt would not go away. Even more important than the mercy he showed to that girl. Something he knew he would never understand.

Why hadn’t he killed that Killjoy? What the hell stopped him?

 _“Good Evening, Michael._ ”

The young man paused, and turned slightly in the direction of the voice. A man was standing at the end of the corridor. He was walking slowly toward Michael, dressed all in black, and draped in a long cloak and hood. He was also wearing a black mask that covered his face except his emerald green eyes, and lips, that were currently curled into a sneer.

“Exterminator Saint,” Michael replied, as politely as he could stomach.

“How are you, my friend?” Saint continued. “Had a busy day?”

Michael instantly felt his heart sink, and his hackles rising. He had known his fellow Exterminator for some time, had even been sent out on missions with him, but there was something about Saint that irked him. No, it was more than that. He made Michael feel uncomfortable, though the young Exterminator had absolutely no idea why. And now the man wanted to have a “chit chat.” All Michael wanted was to get away from him.

Keeping his face neutral, Michael replied. “It was productive.”

“Indeed it was. I hear congratulations are in order,” Exterminator Saint man beamed. “The last of the Killjoys is finally no longer with us.”

“That is correct,” Michael stated. “The rebels are finished. And I need to-”

“But what was it like?” The man interrupted Michael raising his eyebrows. “Killing the great Jet Star. That must have felt amazing for you.”

Michael shrugged. “I did my duty.”

Saint nodded. “Yes, you did. You'll be regarded a hero by everyone.” He took a step forward. “It's so nice, Michael; to see how well you've fitted in, with us.”

Michael blinked. “Why shouldn't I?” He questioned. “This is the only home I've ever known. I belong here.”

“Of course you do.” The man's tone was mocking.

Michael had heard enough. 

“I must keep going,” Michael told him simply, after clearing his throat. “The Coordinator is waiting for my report.”

Saint held up a hand. He was peering at Michael through the mask that hid almost the entirety of his face, though Michael could still see that those piercing green eyes were sparkling.

“I see,” the man replied. “Better be on your _Way_ then, hadn't you?”

Michael regarded him closely. It wasn't good to feel emotions, the company had taught him. But he was now truly feeling dislike for this arrogant man. So, he said nothing. Instead, he turned on his heel, and disappeared along the corridor.

“I'll see you soon, Michael,” Saint called after him. Michael glanced over his shoulder at him. The man was smirking. “In fact,” he added; “So long and goodnight....”

With a quiet chuckle, and a slight wave, the other man hurried away.

Michael frowned as he stared after the other Exterminator, and then pushed his doubts regarding the man to the back of his mind, as he continued on to his appointment with his Co-ordinator.

It didn't do to keep the lady waiting. 

He’d learnt that the hard way.

XXX

Mike let out a strained gasp. God, everything hurt. He moved carefully, checking that all arms and legs were present and correct. What the hell had hit him? And where the fuck was he? He moved his head slightly and instantly cursed. His head felt like it was ready to explode. 

He stayed where he was, tired and in too much pain to try to move again. He didn't know how long he’d lain there before he heard a noise from very close to him. He tensed, assuming the Draculoids had come to finish the job. If he pretended he was dead, maybe he would stand a chance? 

He was prone, not daring to even breath.

Until he heard a familiar voice.

“ _Oh shit. No. Fucking hell…!_ ”

It couldn't be. No. He was imagining things. His mind was playing tricks on him, allowing him to hear what he wanted to hear more than anything else. 

He couldn't really be there...

“MIKE! Fuck!”

Suddenly, something threw itself down almost on top of Mike, and he cried out in surprise.

“Fucking Bastard! Sorry! I'm sorry, Mike. I don't fucking believe it! You're okay. You're gonna be just fine...”

Despite the pain the movement caused him, Mike rolled away, onto his side, and looked up at the person that had appeared beside him.

His eyes confirmed it.

Billie. Right in front of him. And grinning like a crazed Cheshire cat.

His best friend was instantly crouched beside him, holding his hand, telling him over and over that “Everything was gonna be okay.” Mike already knew that he was right. Because they were both alive, and together again. 

After that, anything was possible.

“What the _fuck_ have you been doing?” Billie stumbled over his words, suddenly angry.

“Good to see you too, Billie.” Mike replied, a ghost of a smirk on his lips.

And then, they were embracing, holding each other so tightly, as if they never wanted to let go.

Finally though, they pulled apart. Mike looked past Billie, and saw a man standing behind them, keeping his distance. His face was also covered by a mask. Mike couldn't help but be curious.

“Who-”

He began but Billie shook his head quickly. “We've been looking for you for ages, do you know that? You just had to keep on running, didn't you?”

Mike blinked. “How did you find us?”

Billie grinned. “We've been tracking you for weeks.”

Mike was trying to get to his feet, despite Billie's instructions for him to stay exactly where he fucking was because he could have fucking concussion. 

“Where's Grace?”

“Grace was here?” The man, who had remained motionless up to this point, spoke up from just behind Billie.

“Yeah, and Ray...”

The masked man's head snapped round at Mike's words. The stranger didn't speak, but he turned to look in the direction where Mike was staring. 

He whispered a very soft “ _No,_ ” when he saw the only remaining Killjoy's crumpled form, lying in the heap that the Exterminator had left him in, facing the wall. Before Billie or Mike could even register what was happening, the man had run to Ray, knocking tables and chairs out of the way so his path was clear, and fell to Ray's side frantically. He then checked the Killjoy's pulse desperately, and, after a few seconds, he twisted his head back round to the others, his eyes wide and burning. “He's alive,” he gasped.

“Just slow down-” Billie began, but was interrupted by a quiet groaning sound.

They all looked back toward Ray, each one of showing their relief.

The Killjoy moaned weakly as he slowly regained consciousness He cringed, recalling the feel of the ray gun blast knocking him flying, and closed his eyes tightly as the memories of what happened came flooding back. Mikey. Mikey had shot him.

_Wait._

_Mikey had spared him..._

He moved gingerly, everything hurting. He tried to lift his head but had to pause when he saw that the room was spinning. He was aware that there were others there, but he couldn't focus on them. All he could think about was Mikey. He had to get after him. He had to find him, get him back, one way of another. He had to-

He grimaced, his head pounding.

He heard footsteps close to him and he tensed.

“Slowly, buddy;” A gentle voice urged. “You need to keep still.”

Ray looked up sharply, rubbing at his forehead, and saw the masked man standing over him. He let out a low gasp and, panicked, instantly beginning to back away. 

"Who-?" He mumbled. "What do you-?" Then, he quickly looked towards what had been Grace's hiding place. He soon saw with dismay that the girl had gone. He rounded on the stranger. "What have you done with Grace?"

The unknown man held both his hands up at once. “Ray, you're okay. Take it easy.”

Ray's eyed widened as he gaped at the stranger in front of him. He knew that voice. Knew exactly whom that voice belonged to. But it was impossible. He was dreaming. That was the only explanation.

This wasn't real. _Couldn't be real._

“Who are you?” He managed. “Who the _fuck_ are you?”

The masked man didn't reply at first. He tilted his head, catching Billie's eye, and then he looked back at Ray. Hesitating for another moment, he slowly pulled off his mask, and then matched Ray's gaze, a nervous smile on his lips.

Ray didn't move. He just stared.

Mike let out a low whistle. “Fuck me...”

Frank Iero chuckled. “Not right now, Mike,” he whispered, but then threw Mike a quick appreciative look. He quickly returned his gaze to his best friend, who had turned very pale, and was staring at him in complete shock.

“Who are you?” Ray repeated, barely audible.

Frank blinked. “It's me, Ray. It's Frank.”

Ray glared furiously. “No, it's not. Frank Iero’s dead! What the fuck are you? What kind of fucking trick are you bastards pulling?”

“It's not a trick, Ray! It's me, buddy. It's really me.”

“Bullshit!” Ray threw at him, his eyed wide, and crazed. “People don't come back from the dead, Frank-”

“Except for Korse,” Frank interjected. “And I was never dead, Ray. Well, not properly dead. Not for long-”

“Not helping, Frankie,” Billie told him quickly.

“Sorry,” Frank noted. He gazed at Ray again, chewing on his lower lip. “It's so fucking good to see you, Ray...”

Ray was still staring at him. Muttering under his breath, he held a weary hand up, trying to fend Frank off. He was utterly terrified by what he was seeing, and clearly, and completely understandably, didn't believe a word he was hearing. In fact, he was quite sure that he had finally lost his mind.

“So, I'm crazy,” he announced. His head snapped back round then, and he glared up at the vision of Frank that was not disappearing, no matter how much he expected him to. “Or, is this fucking it? Am I fucking dead then?” Ray snapped, his voice growing in volume. “Is that why you're here?”

Frank gave him a small smile. He reached out for Ray, but the other man recoiled in horror.

“Just stay the fuck away from me!” He gasped, scrambling backwards. “Don't you fucking touch me...”

The 'thing with Frank's face' hesitated for a second, and then stepped closer. “Ray, you need to listen-”

“No! It's a fucking lie! BL/I are fucking with my mind. Or you're a clone or something-”

“No Ray,” Billie cut in. “It's really him...”

He made to walk over to the two Killjoys, but Mike grabbed his arm. He glanced down at his friend who gave him a knowing look. “Leave them,” Mike muttered.

Billie frowned, but did as he was told.

He turned again, to see Frank once more desperately trying to convince the other man that he really was real. “And I'm not a ghost,” Frank was saying. “Feel me...”

To prove his point, Frank pinched Ray. Hard.

Ray responded by crying out, and then promptly smacking Frank in the mouth.

Billie felt a desperate urge to laugh. He fought it back down.

Frank was dabbing at his lip with his finger. When he moved his finger away, there was a tiny amount of blood on the end. 

“See?” He told Ray.

Ray stared at him. “You fucking _bleed?_ ” He whimpered. “How can you be a ghost if you bleed?”

“Like I said;” Frank replied, somewhat shakily, “I'm not a fucking ghost.” Taking a moment to compose him, Frank then gave Ray a coy smile. “And yeah, I guess I deserved that blow. You only get one free shot though, okay?”

“ _What the fuck?_ ” Ray was shaking his head in disbelief. Moving away, he tripped and found himself falling, a shaky hand covering his mouth, his eyes bulging. He slumped down, banging his head against the wall behind him. He laughed out loud, hysterical, staring at Frank as if he truly believed he had finally gone stark raving mad.

“You can't be here,” he moaned. “You can't be.”

“It's okay, Ray;” Frank whispered. “It's gonna be okay, buddy,”

Ray buried his head into his hands. Frank, tears now sliding down his own cheeks, moved carefully to Ray, not wanting to shock or panic the man any further, and then gathering Ray into his arms and held him close. Ray resisted for a few seconds, hitting out at Frank repeatedly, and whimpering until, finally, he grew still, though he couldn’t stop his body from trembling.

“I thought you were dead,” he managed, his words hardly audible. “I thought I'd fucking lost you man-”

And then, he was openly sobbing, clinging onto Frank, as if his life depended on it. Frank began to sob himself, holding Ray, his head lying gently against the other man's.

Mike and Billie stood back, allowing the two best friends to have their private moment, both of them knowing just how important this was. Mike actually put an arm around Billie, and pulled him close. Because they felt the emotion too. They had both believed they would never see the other again.

In a time when so many were lost, sweet moments like what they were witnessing, and actually even feeling for each other, were few and far between.

Loved ones were all that mattered. 

The only sound in the room was the two men's sobbing as they both poured out all of their relief, grief, pain and fears to each other.

They weren't alone any more. No matter what happened from then on, no one could take away that moment.

They had each other again.

XXX

Michael paused outside the door leading to the Coordinator's office. He felt nervous, unsure. He had reason to. He still couldn't understand his actions that day and he knew that he would have to keep them from her, to avoid any difficult situations. He would certainly be expected to explain his actions and how could he do that when he had no idea himself? It would be better to lie to her. Far better. But he had never lied to his leader, to his partner. Could he really start now?

He had little choice.

Taking a deep breath, he knocked. He waited several moments before hearing her clipped tones. “Come in.”

The dread within him building, he pulled open the door, and entered.

Her office was a startling white, like the majority of the citadel. She sat behind a glass desk in the centre of the room, everything as neat and tidy, as you would expect. She had a flat computer screen in front of her, which she turned off when she looked up, and saw Michael.

Instantly, she smiled. “My dear,” she greeted him. “Please, sit down, Michael.”

He did as he was told. He crossed the room quickly, and sat down opposite her, his hands in his lap.

“So,” she begun; “How did it go?”

He nodded in response. “The mission is complete, ma'am.”

The Coordinator smirked. “So I heard. I wanted confirmation from you though. The last of the Killjoys has been ghosted, yes?”

A flicker. His lips twitched. He fought to remain calm.

“Yes,” he replied.

She didn't react.

“How did it feel when you killed him?”

Michael blinked. Again, this interest in him and his feelings. Why?

Out loud, he answered, very coldly; “I'm afraid I do not understand.”

Her lips curled. “It's a simple enough question, my dear. As you killed the last of the Killjoys, how did you feel?”

Michael shrugged. “I felt nothing. I am merely pleased that the mission was completed successfully.”

She smiled happily. “A good response.” She paused then, leaning back in her chair. “But, I must ask you, this girl you brought back with you. She used to run with the Killjoys. She was one of them. Why did you spare her, Michael?”

He flinched slightly. He didn't know why.

“It seemed unnecessary to kill her.” He said flatly. “She's so young, merely a child. It's not to late for her to belong with the rest of us.” 

The Coordinator pondered this for a few moments. “As you wish,” she told him. “We will give the girl another chance.”

Michael didn't respond. He merely watched her, waiting for further questions.

The Coordinator chuckled and then gestured to him.

“Come to me,” she instructed. “Let me look at you, sweetness.”

He stood at once, and walked around her desk until he was standing directly before her, his arms clasped behind his back. He looked down at her, waiting for further instructions.

She let out a low sigh as she gazed back at him. 

“Smile, Michael.” She scolded. “We've won. You and I are going to be legendary.”

He did as he was told, but the smile didn't reach his eyes.

She searched his face, rose to her own feet, and then pulled him forward. Their lips met, and they kissed. The embrace grew more passionate, as Michael wrapped his arms around her small body.

Suddenly, she pulled back, giving him a seductive smile.

“You may go, Michael.”

And, with that, she turned her back on him and walked away. As she did so though, she brought two fingers up to her lips, and touched them lightly, remembering the feel of his kiss.

She smiled.

He knew the conversation was at an end. He turned and walked out quickly, closing the door behind him. He stood outside the door for a moment, breathing harshly. Finally, he looked up, and saw his reflection in the glass. He gazed at himself, reaching up and touching his mask. She had always told him to wear it during missions so that he would remain an enigma. Nothing scares more than a mystery. But now, he felt more that there was something about his face that needed to be kept hidden. Very slowly, he pulled the mask away, and glared at himself.

One question echoed around his mind.

'Who are you?'

He heard a noise. Quickly replacing the mask, he hurried away, trying to put his fears and questions to the back of his mind. He had work to do.

Unbeknown to Michael, his uncertain moment had been being closely watched. The Co-ordinator had seen the whole thing on her computer monitor. She stared thoughtfully, watching as he walked away. 

Then, very slowly, she got to her feet, and followed him out of her office.

XXX

There was silence in the old house. It was only the four of them still alive; the Draculoids had wiped out every other living soul. Mike and Billie were standing by the door, eyeing each other uncomfortably, and every so often glancing questionably at their companions. Ray and Frank were both sat on the floor, sitting toward each other, but their gazes were both fixed firmly on the ground. Neither of them knew how to begin.

Finally, Ray cleared his throat. "We have to find Grace," he whispered.

"Her body isn't here," Mike replied, quietly. "Mikey must have taken her."

Ray grimaced. Silence reigned once more for a few moments, before Ray turned to Frank, unable to hold back the question he desperately needed an answer to. 

_“How?”_ The Killjoy could only just manage, his voice cracking with emotion. Frank flinched, and then let out a weary sigh, his hands covering his face. Quickly, he exchanged a nervous glance with Billie, and then finally faced Ray, who was now watching him impatiently.

“I got lucky,” he said simply.

“Tell me,” Ray whispered.

After a moment to compose himself, Frank began to tell his story. He explained how Gareth had put a transporter on his wrist just before Bert had killed him. Frank had had no idea about this; all he had wanted was to die and to take those fuckers with him. He told that when the Coordinator had hit the button on her wrist to transport out, he had been caught in the signal too, but had been transported straight to the base, the hospital section. That had been Gareth's plan from the start. The doctors, Billie, Doc and Luka had worked tirelessly to save his life. They had removed the chip just in time. It had been touch and go for a week, but he'd recovered and had been following Ray, Mike and Grace ever since.

Ray had listened intently through the story, shaking his head or wiping a stray tear at different intervals. Finally, he knew he had to ask the question he dreaded hearing the answer to.

“And,” he hesitated. “Gerard?

Frank swallowed hard. He glanced away, trying to compose himself, before speaking again. “He died in my arms before the Coordinator came in. I ripped that fucking crap off of his head, just like he asked me to. It killed him.”

Ray shuddered. He couldn't break down. He just couldn't. “I already knew Gerard was dead,” he whispered. “I suppose I just thought, with you being okay, I _prayed -_ ” He broke off, unable to finish his sentence. Finally, he brought a shaky hand up to his mouth. “I guess three miracles in one night would have been asking a bit too much.”

Frank blinked. “Three?”

Ray's lips trembled. “Mikey.”

The despair on Frank's face was evident. “Mikey's gone, Ray. Whatever that freak was in here tonight, whoever murdered all those men, women and children, that wasn't Mikey.”

Ray shook his head in frustration. “He’s not Mikey right now, no. But I know that there’s still a chance. He’s in there somewhere…”

Frank exchanged worried glances with Billie. “Mikey is dead, Ray;” He said, more firmly.

Ray gestured angrily. “He was ordered to kill me, but he couldn't do it.”

“Ray-” Frank whispered, but the other man ignored him.

“You didn't see what he was like in here. He was going to finish me, but then, he stopped. He even asked me who I was. He was questioning. You know what that means for a Draculoid. He's fighting their conditioning. _He's still in there._ ”

“Ray, it could have been a mistake-” Billie offered, trying to be the voice of reason. But Ray was not ready to listen.

“Even before he became this Michael, _our_ Mikey never used to make mistakes when it came to life and death.” Ray glanced over at his fellow Killjoy who he now saw had his back to him. Ray, frowning, took a step toward Frank. “He didn't kill Grace. He couldn't kill _me_ , Frankie.”

Frank let out a loud sigh before facing Ray once more. “Do you know how I felt when I first woke up and I remembered? I knew Gerard was gone, that I'd never see him again. What do you think I did, Ray?”

Ray couldn't reply. He just shook his head, devastated.

Frank clenched his fists. “I pulled all the fucking wires off of me, and fought the doctors when they tried to stop me. I was fucking inconsolable, I wanted to die.” He paused, wiping the tears from his eyes. “Do you know what they said to me? Do you know what made me stop and realise that I couldn't give up?”

“No.” Ray whispered.

Frank was trembling. “ _You._ They told me you were still alive, but that Mikey had been taken. I soon realised what they'd done to him and I knew, Ray. I knew you'd need me. So I fought against the desire to die, and I pulled myself back from the fucking brink and I got well again, because I knew I had to find you. It's just the fucking two of us now, Ray. I had to accept I'd never see Gerard again, that there was no getting him back.” He leaned closer to his best friend. “What we can do for Mikey, buddy, is to fucking take out what they've turned him into. That's what he'd want, and you know it.” 

Ray couldn't listen to another word. He grabbed Frank's arm. “You don't understand, Frankie.”

Frank glared. “What? Were you even listening-”

“NO!” Ray exclaimed. “You listen to me for a change, you stubborn bastard.” Frank gave him a warning look, but Ray didn't take the hint. “He's still in there.” He hissed to his friend, desperately. “ _I saw him._ ”

Frank pulled his arm free, glaring furiously. “He's gone, Ray. Just like Gerard.”

Billie took a step forward. “You told me yourself, Frank, about how strong Gerard was, how he fought back against the reprogramming Korse was putting him through-”

Frank shook his head slightly. “That was different. Gerard hadn't been reprogrammed, his mind was being wiped. Mikey has been conditioned to be an Exterminator;” He glanced at Ray, before adding; “There's nothing left of the man we knew.”

There was silence for a moment, and then Ray cleared his throat.

“This is _Mikey,_ Frank;” He whispered, the agony clear in his voice. “We have to try.”

Frank trembled slightly, and then looked down thoughtfully. Just for a second, he closed his eyes. He saw big, hazel eyes staring into his own. And he heard a voice, so quiet, so weak. The same voice he heard in his dreams every single night:

_“I'll meet your eyes.”_

His eyes snapped open. He fought back the tears threatening to spill and then met Ray's gaze. He knew what he had to do. There was only one choice. If there was any chance at all they could get Mikey back, then he would do whatever was necessary to make that happen. It's what Gerard would have done. He'd never have given up until Mikey was free. Frank would do the same.

He smiled at Ray. And then nodded. “We're gonna get Mikey, and Gracie, out of there.”

Ray bit his lip. He got carefully to his feet, and then pulled Frank up beside him. He then reached out, clasping Frank's shoulder, and then quickly letting him go. His eyes met Mike's, and he took a deep breath.

“We're going to have to plan this.” Ray said quietly. “It's not going to be easy to get into the city-”

Mike scoffed. “The fucking hard part is getting out Ray, not in.”

Ray ignored the sarcastic remark. He gestured to Frank.

“We have to contact the Doc. He'll know what to do.” 

“What are we fucking doing standing around here chatting for then?” Billie was by the door now, his fist clenched. And, as he winked at Frank, the Killjoy saw a flash of the old Billie Joe Armstrong back, just for a second, the “Fuck the world” attitude that he had once been so famous for. And for Mike, Frank and Ray, it felt unbelievably good to see it there once again.

Billie smiled.

“Lets go.”

XXX

Grace had found herself being carried into a small building, and dumped unceremoniously on the ground. The man had shouted at her to stay still, and she had been annoyed with herself for showing fear. A woman had come rushing over to them, a young lady who had actually been nice to her. 

She had even informed the brutish man that “This happens to be a school, not a prison.” She had then told him in her gentle English accent, to “Sling his hook.”

He had done as he was told, muttering under his breath as he had made a hasty retreat.

The woman had helped Grace up then, dusted her down, and had told her to find the other children and introduce herself before “Learning Rota” began. The young lady had then smiled at her, a real genuine smile, and had told her she had nothing to be afraid of.

She had left Grace then. 

And so Grace was stuck in this room, with a group of children all glaring at her due to her being an outsider. She looked at each of them in turn, and they all turned their backs on her. She badly wanted to cry but knew she couldn’t show them so much weakness.

That is what Poison would have told her, had he still been there, with her.

_'Be strong, Grace.'_

Thinking of Poison was the last straw for Grace, as her thoughts turned to all her Killjoy friends, and everything she had lost. She bowed her head, as tears began to slide down her cheeks.

When the quiet voice spoke up, it took her completely by surprise.

“Please don't cry.”

Grace looked up sharply.

A small, black haired, bubbly looking girl was smiling down at her. Grace drew back nervously. The girl cautiously reached out and tapped Grace on her arm.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t be scared. Miss Elle is lovely, you're safe here.

Grace couldn't help but give her a small smile. There was something likeable about this girl.

“What's your name?” She asked.

“Bea.”

Grace blinked.

“Is that short for Beatrice?”

The other girl let out a small laugh. When she smiled, her eyes twinkled. “No!” She replied. “They told me my name was Bandit, and I kinda liked it...” 

Grace smiled. “Bandit. That's a cool name.”

Bandit beamed. “I know!” She looked toward the door quickly. “What’s yours, by the way?”

“Grace,” the Killjoy replied, at once. 

“Hey Grace, come and meet the others!”

Grace gaped at this girl, now offering her a hand of friendship. There was something about this girl, something familiar. Grace didn't know why, but she liked and trusted her at once. She didn't hesitate a moment longer, as she slipped forward, grasped Bandit's hand, and allowed her to lead her from the room.

XXX

The Coordinator was striding through the Citadel Building, walking through a section that only very few people knew of. Not even her superiors knew this part of the facility existed. Her, two of the most trusted guards in her service, and a small team of Doctors and Scientists knew that the area she was making her way through was no longer out of bounds. To enter, she had to use a very special key card that she had programmed herself. 

This had all been down to her perfect plan, her and Korse. Korse had died so they could gain the information they needed to bring the entire rebel “force” to its knees. She would be revered by not only those she answered to, but by all the people she protected. Protected from not only the rebels who wanted to destroy their peace and tranquillity but also to protect from the real horrors of the world they were now stuck with. Her company's drugs made people smile, she helped people. That was what the self-righteous rebels would never understand. Her intentions were good. The Corporation was a force for good. The rebels were the bad people. She was fighting on the right side. And that was how she would be remembered.

Especially when she brought all those who sought to ruin everything she had built up were all bought to justice. Thanks to one of their own.

She paused at two white doors, a pair of Scarecrow guards on either side. They nodded to her politely. She pulled out her security card and swiped through the mechanism. The doors unlocked and swung open, allowing her access. She walked through them into the darkness beyond and then quickly called out a clear instruction:

_“Lights!”_

Instantly, bright light flooded the large room she had entered, and she walked forward, her high-heeled shoes tap-tapping on the smooth floor. The room was so quiet, that noise seemed deafening. 

There was equipment everywhere, machines all operating with flashing lights. The room was an operating theatre. There was a bed in the centre, and somebody was lying on it. She approached the body, a small smile on her lips. 

“Hello again,” she whispered.

The figure didn't respond. It was a man and he was naked, not even covered by a sheet to spare his dignity. What did his shame matter anyway? It's not like he knew what was happening to him. He would never know anything again.

She walked up to the unconscious man. He was in such a deep coma, she was told, he may as well be brain dead. The thought pleased her. For such a lively person to be reduced to this: It was the ultimate punishment. When she was mere feet away, she reached out and touched his short, cropped hair. They had had to shave his head to save his life, and to attach the head gear he was now wearing, the machine that was searching his brain and gaining her the information she needed.

When she had realised what Iero would do, it had not occurred to her what was about to happen when she clasped her own wrist in a desperate effort to save her own life. She had transported herself out of their trap, taking all the Draculoids wearing the transporters with her. And they had not been all that had come along for the ride. It had seemed Korse had been clever enough to follow her instructions and had placed one of the wrist controllers on to the rebel leader. The man had been transported directly into the city, where doctors, believing he was the one they needed alive, had instantly begun their expert work to save his life. And that was exactly what they had done. He was clinging on, barely breathing, but still giving them the information they craved. It had all worked perfectly. They had discovered so much from him. And he had led them directly to Toro and the girl.

He was the reason they were able to exterminate the rebel menace. He was the reason why she was being celebrated.

And he would never wake up.

That was the best part.

“I thought you'd like to know.” She told him, unable to keep the smugness out of her tone. Why should she? Everything had gone exactly to plan. Why shouldn't she lord it over the man who had wanted to ruin her? “You're friend, Ray Toro is dead, killed by your brother. Isn't that the most wonderful news? Are you not overjoyed?”

She watched him closely, as if she expected some reaction, some response. Of course, there was none.

His eyes were closed. His chest rose and fell gently. But, there was no other sign of life.

The Coordinator smiled knowingly.

“That's right, you rebel scum. You lost, I won. The Killjoys are finished.” She began to stroke his cheek with her finger. “And, very soon, the final act will be upon us, when your own precious, devoted brother will happily blast you into oblivion. For me.”

She leaned down over him, swapping her gentle strokes to his cheek to grabbing his hair viciously and jerking his head back. He didn't flinch. He never flinched. No matter what she did.

Her eyes flashed as she put her lips to his ear, and hissed:

“My doctors say you can't hear me, Gerard Way. They say you're as good as dead and only our machines are keeping you alive, plucking the information we need from the parts of your brain we still know so little about. They say you're nothing but an empty shell and there is no chance you will ever wake up.” 

She moved back slightly, pure contempt on her face. “I don't accept that. I know you can hear me. Killjoys never die, right?” She took hold of his forearms and squeezed, knowing she would leave bruises. “Only, the Killjoys are dead, Toro, McCracken, Iero. All dead, and your brother, at my request, will send you to join them soon. And then, _Mikey_ will be mine completely.”

She looked down at him, triumphantly. The only sound was the steady beeping of the life support equipment, keeping the prone man's heart beating. Until she decided she didn't need him any more.

The day would be soon. All she wanted was Doctor Death Defying. Once she had him, then she would finally allow the great Party Poison to die.

“You keep on running, Gerard Way;” She taunted him. “Run straight on into Hell. I'll be sure to take care of your little brother.”

With that, she walked away, not bothering to look back. Coldly, she snapped: “Lights off.”

If she'd looked back, she may well have noticed something interesting.

But she didn't see.

She didn't notice that his eyelids flickered. Or that he, so very subtly, moved the index finger on his right hand.

She didn't hear him murmuring words under his breath.

She had no idea that he had heard every word she had spoken, although she had sounded so far away, and he couldn't focus on her words.

It wasn't time yet. He was still resting. He was still mending.

The three faces were getting closer, coming out of the fog. He still couldn't focus on them, but they were definitely getting closer. And he could hear one message in his head, and it was getting louder. It was nearly time. He had lots still to do. 

And they kept giving him their message. And he knew that he knew them. And he'd see them again. Soon,

They were smiling.

And calling to him.

_Gerard. Gerard. Gerard._

Louder. Clearer. _Nearer._ Over and over again. Forever, the line he sang in his head:

_“We'll carry on. We'll carry on. We'll carry on...”_

The End.


End file.
